2 #2
I shove her with my shoulder. “Okay, well, we’ll get Zach out of the way. I’m sure he’ll make some excuse about needing to study and won’t even come. And with my parents out of town with my grandparents, I just have to get rid of my aunts.”
We both inhale deeply as the scent of cider donuts fills the air. We are coming dangerously close to the farmstand now, and neither of us has ever met a cider donut we don’t like. “Have you figured out how to get your aunts out of town yet?” she asks.
“Sort of.” I fiddle with one of the beaded bracelets on my wrist. “I am going to get up the courage to talk to them tonight. They’re supposed to be back this afternoon after some Broadway preview Lin-Manuel invited them to.”
“Those two have quite the life,” Laney marvels.
My mom’s sisters, Vivianne and Diane, live with us part-time in their own wing of the house.
The other half of the time, my aunts stay in a luxury apartment near Lincoln Center in New York City that they bought with their latest husbands.
Half the time I don’t think they even remember that they’re married—I never see my uncles.
And since neither of my aunts had kids, they spoil Harry and me rotten when they aren’t on some lavish trip with their coven.
I adore my aunts, but I do not want them chaperoning the party.
Those two will not be quiet observers hanging out in their wing.
They’ll be chatting up the football team, offering to hold séances for the cheerleaders in the library, and commandeering the karaoke machine they bought me for Christmas.
“I just need to tell them that I have a boyfriend. And that I can cast the spells.”
Every Halloween our family performs rituals that keep Mystic Hollow’s magic alive and protect our small town.
All around the world, witch families settle in places with strong magic, where the veil between the natural and supernatural is especially thin.
For the Hadleys, that was Mystic Hollow.
It makes our magic stronger, but it also attracts more sinister creatures.
So, every Halloween, it’s our duty to refresh the wards and keep everyone safe.
My mom once described it as a symbiotic relationship, but it makes me feel like a little fish suctioned onto a shark, which isn’t exactly my vibe.
The Samhain ritual is also the one spell that a witch can’t cast alone. It requires a soulmate—a love so deep that their hearts beat as one. Each partner must share the exact same intention and the exact same sacrifice. Grams used to cast it with Grampa before they moved away to Florida.
Mom and Dad have cast the rituals for as long as I remember, because Dad is the yin to Mom’s yang and the spells go perfectly.
But this year my grandfather is recovering from surgery, and my parents need to go to St. Augustine.
They’ll cast the charms in their retirement community to keep them safe.
With Harry away, I’ve been trying to get my parents to let me do the rituals myself this year with my own love match, but I’m not sure Mom actually believes I have a boyfriend.
I’ve been telling the whole family I’m dating someone but don’t feel ready to bring him around yet.
Sure, it’s a bit of a lie, but if things go well with Colton, I will have a boyfriend on Halloween.
“Can you cast the spells? Without a boyfriend?” Laney asks.
“No,” I admit as we reach the town green. I kick aside a few extra-crunchy leaves. “But that doesn’t matter, because once Colton comes to my party, he’ll finally see me, and we’ll be in love in time.”
“When does the charm need to be cast?” Laney asks, gnawing her lip nervously.
“Midnight. I mean, we usually start prepping the rituals at moonrise—so this year it’ll be around nine, I think.”
“And your party starts at . . .”
“Six.”
“You have three hours to fall in love or the spell protecting our town fails?”
I glare at her. “Haven’t you ever heard of love at first sight?” When she opens her mouth, probably to object that Colton has seen me plenty, I add quickly, “And if the spell works, then I’ll know it’s real. That Colton feels the same way about me too. That we’re soulmates.”
I look over at Laney when I realize she hasn’t said anything about this. Instead, she’s got a tense look on her face. I feel my fingers tingle as if I can imagine what she’s thinking. “You don’t think Colton is the one?”
“That’s not it,” she says carefully. “I just—and don’t take this the wrong way—your track record when it comes to finding love on Halloween isn’t the best.”
“Okay, it hasn’t been perfect but . . .”
“Ryan Elliott?” she says by way of explanation. “I remember you threw up three times.”
“He wasn’t a great pick, but I’ve evolved.”
“Evolved? You still have that wristband in the bottom of your bag.”
I feel myself flush. “It was seventh grade.”
“Fine, then. Hunter Tyler?”
“Okay, but when we got home my mom was able to salvage that dress with a spell.”
Laney’s frown deepens, hidden only by a gust of wind whipping across the green and blowing her hair in front of her face. She opens her mouth, then seems to think better of it and closes it like a fish.
The tingles pulse beneath my skin and I start to sway, feeling ill. “Don’t mention Reese Whitaker,” I say quietly.
Laney squeezes my hand, a sad smile on her face.
She knows how much that one hurts. “I won’t,” she whispers.
“And I’m sorry. I’m being unfair. It’s not like I’ve had better luck!
” She rolls her eyes. “I just want someone nice and friendly and smiley. A golden retriever boyfriend. Clearly doesn’t exist in Mystic Hollow. ”
“And I just want someone who sees me for me.” Not Harry Hadley’s loser younger sister. Not a witch who can barely even cast spells. I’m so much more than all that. “But that’s going to change at my party.” I link my arm with hers. “This Samhain will change both our love lives.”
“Maybe,” Laney agrees as we reach the edge of town.
“Let’s manifest it,” I decide. So much of magic is about manifesting things. “Anything can happen in Mystic Hollow. This town is literally made of magic.”
We both stare at Mystic Hollow’s town green, and I have to admit: I get why Mayor Croft is trying to get us trending online for hashtag fall feels or whatever. Our tiny town looks like something from a storybook, the main square set against the backdrop of the mountains in all their fall splendor.
Two dozen shops and eateries in historic buildings are nestled around the large green space, which looks like a New England college quad with paths crisscrossing it.
This time of year, it’s filled to the brim with fall decor, scarecrows every few feet, hay bales, and pumpkins.
And all the paths lead to a town monument of Harold Croft, who claims to be founder (even though Beatrice Hadley was already here too), and a sign that says “Mystic Hollow, founded 1645.” Nearby is our homegrown coffee shop, Witches Brew, which is owned by Zach’s family and has the best pumpkin spice lattes on the planet.
We also have a Halloween-themed restaurant where I sometimes waitress (and which helpfully agreed to cater my party with a huge employee discount).
Along the south side, there’s a bed-and-breakfast named All Hallows Inn and stores like Laney’s mom’s bookshop, Spirited Books, and a candle shop called Coven Candles, plus a hardware store that looks like it was built in the seventeenth century because it probably was.
There are ghost tours, leaf-peeping routes, pick-your-own pumpkin patches, haunted corn mazes, a farmstand, and a gigantic cemetery that claims to be where the real Headless Horseman is buried, even though it’s just an unmarked obelisk.
There is even a parade on Halloween weekend with a Headless Horseman carrying a flaming torch.
But we haven’t landed on any fall roundups for Best Halloween Sightseeing because everyone thinks of Salem or Sleepy Hollow first.
Mayor Croft is determined to change that this year. He’s been posting videos that rack up tens, sometimes hundreds of views. (At least fifty of those are me, when Colton is in the videos.)
At the fork in the path, though, I see Colton heading into Witches Brew, and I swerve sharply, nearly crashing into Laney.
“Let’s stop in at the bookstore for a bit. Let Witches Brew clear out.”
Laney glances over, and I wonder if she can see Colton disappearing into the cozy storefront. A rush of goose bumps travels up my arms, and I fight the urge to wring my hands to shake off the embarrassment.
“I’m not avoiding him,” I say quickly, and she startles, like she’s surprised I volunteered that info. “It’s just . . . I need him to see me at my best. Not when I’m embarrassing.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “You know me. I’m never saying no to a trip to our bookstore.”