Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
Sunlight filters through the workroom’s stained-glass windows, painting the floor in jewel tones. I lean against the edge of the counter, watching Mom sort through jars of dried herbs, her translucent fingers passing through glass before she remembers to concentrate.
"Calendula," she murmurs, and I pluck the jar from the shelf, setting it within easier reach.
"Thanks, baby." She doesn't look up, but warmth blooms in my chest. I’ve always loved helping her work, watching her, just sharing space with her.
“Rosemary.”
I hand her the dried bundle, and she continues her inventory, slotting her supplies into place.
As a kid, magic felt like fairy tales.
Now it seems like grasping at survival.
“I’ve been thinking it’s time for you to get to know some of the regular ghosts of Emberwood.” Mom points to a notepad on the pine harvest table. “I jotted down what you need to find them and introduce yourself.”
I shift over to pick up the yellow pad and scan the page. “King Louie?”
She breaks out into a wide smile. “If things haven’t changed entirely in my absence, you’ll find him in a back booth at the Velvet Groove. He’s a sweet old guy. Played piano for Sam Rivers back in the forties and fifties. I think it’s the music that keeps him stable.”
I like that. Like to hear that not all ghosts are trapped or vengeful spirits. “And Dana Coin?”
“She’s harmless. She’s stuck in a loop. You’ll find her pushing her shopping cart somewhere on a route from Pete’s Mercantile, over through the park at the town square, behind Francine’s B&B, and the Mindful Mat.”
I chuckle. “A homeless woman dies and haunts a yoga studio? What’s that about?”
“Back in the nineties, that studio was the Emberwood soup kitchen. It’s a place of comfort for her.”
“Does she realize it’s not a soup kitchen anymore?”
Mom tilts her head to the side as she considers. “Maybe on the rarest of good days. Most loopers are simply replaying their last day. They see things as they remember them. That’s why it’s important not to disturb their loop. It upsets them.”
I jot that down, thankful to have her here to help me. “Is it better to let them pass than for them to loop endlessly?”
“Better for whom?” She glances over at me and smiles. “If a ghost is living their best life, that’s the work of the goddess. We step in only if they’re troubled or dangerous.”
I get that. “Lizzy was so relieved to know her pups were taken care of. Her crossing over was really peaceful. Kind of beautiful, too.”
Mom smiles. “It’s always a blessing when that’s the case. Sadly, anger, fear, or unfinished business aren’t always so easy to appease. Strong emotions can tie ghosts to a purpose, and that can be good or bad. Still, you gave Lizzy peace, so that’s a win.”
I pause, the subtext of her words settling over me. "I've been so grateful to have you back, Mom. I hadn't really thought about what it’s costing you to be here. Are you all right?”
Her hands still over the mortar and pestle. “It’s a little different for me. I chose to bind myself to this plane.”
“But spirits aren't meant to linger. Aren’t witches meant to join the ancestral powers and become part of the current that guides our bloodline forward?"
“We are.” She sets down the pestle with careful precision. I watch her profile, cataloging the subtle signs I've been ignoring. The way her edges sometimes blur. How she drifts when she thinks no one is watching, her gaze distant.
My throat tightens. "Do you need to move on?"
The question hangs between us, terrifying in its implications. I just got her back. The thought of losing her again—of watching her fade the way Lizzy did—makes my chest constrict.
Mom turns to face me fully, and her blue eyes, so much like mine, are fierce with determination.
“I’m not going anywhere, Poppy. I have no intention of moving on. Not until everything is right in this family.”
“But if you’re suffering…”
“I suffer because Violet and Lily were taken from our home. I suffer that because of me, a major demon forced you into a blood-bound contract. And I suffer because the Hallowind bloodline needs to be cleansed of the demon mark that resulted from my workings.”
The workings that Laurel sabotaged. “I hate that you blame yourself for all that, Mom. It wasn't your fault.”
"Wasn't it?" She returns to her herbs, but her movements are sharper now. “I made choices, Poppy. I thought I was protecting you girls, protecting our family's legacy. Instead, I bound you to something dark and terrible."
"You were trying to save us."
"Trying isn't good enough when the cost is the souls of your daughters." She stops, shoulders sagging. "I won't leave you to fix my mistakes alone. I won't abandon you again—not until I know you're truly safe."
I move closer, leaning into her for a hug. “You didn't abandon us the first time. You died.”
“And left you unprepared for everything that came after.” She runs a gentle hand down the back of my hair and my back. “I know you feel like the weight of the world is on you, petal, but I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere until you’re safe and your sisters are home.”
And knowing that makes things a little less overwhelming.
It's late afternoon on Thursday when Asher, Orion, and I make our way down Main Street on a supply run for Mom. The light of the sinking sun slants between the two-and-three-story buildings spaced out along the historic town center, casting long shadows across the sidewalk.
The spell she and Sebastian are working on requires rare ingredients and likely will need to be outsourced to find. I'm not sure what they're working on, but odds are it has something to do with finding my sisters or breaking me from my blood bond to Tharuzel.
Whatever their goal, given time and the right ingredients, I'm sure they'll succeed.
As we go, Asher tells the story about a show Samoyed he used to take care of that ate an entire pizza off a porch, and the ensuing chaos of trying to bathe him and get him back to his parents without being covered in pizza sauce.
Which was a total fail.
Orion walks on my other side, hands in his pockets, listening with that smile he gets when Asher's being particularly Asher, and it's a great moment.
Even with everything being chaotic and shitty, this moment is perfection, and I soak it in and am grateful.
Then it's over.
Just like that, the bubble bursts as a man passes us on the sidewalk. At first glance, the pedestrian looks normal enough. He's a middle-aged guy wearing cargo pants and a navy fleece jacket that looks pretty good on him.
But what is definitely not normal is the mark on his forehead glowing faintly red.
It stands out against the dimming light and seems to be a sigil of intricate lines forming an almost ampersand pattern I don't recognize.
I slow, turning to watch him continue past.
"Did you see that?" I ask Orion.
His silver-blue eyes track the man as he dips his chin. "What the hell was that?"
Asher looks from Orion to me and back. "What was what?"
I tap my forehead with my finger. "He had a glowing sigil, right here."
Asher frowns. "I didn't see anything. Is this a magic thing?"
Before I can answer, a woman walks out of the coffee shop onto the sidewalk ahead of us. She has the same intricate sigil marking her forehead.
"She's got one, too," Orion whispers, tilting his head toward the woman.
Asher looks between us, then at the woman, then back. "Okay, I'm officially feeling left out. I don't see anything."
I study the woman as she walks away. She's in her mid-twenties, wearing athletic gear, and completely oblivious to the magical symbol literally written on her face.
"Maybe I need glasses." Asher waves his hand in front of his eyes.
I gather his waving hand and tug him back into motion. "More likely, it's a magic thing and has nothing to do with your eyesight."
"Awesome, I'm magically blind. Nocana see it, nocana do it."
I snort despite myself. "That was terrible."
"No, it was brilliant," Asher corrects. "Maybe that's why it's called nocana in the first place. You never know."
We continue toward Wildflowers & Wellness, but I don't see anyone else with sigils. "It has to be magical if Asher nocana see them, but what does it mean? Is it a natural thing or is someone marking them?"
"I'd put money on door number two, Pop-Tart." Orion frowns, stretching his neck left and then right, as if attempting to release stress. "And nobody nice marks other people without their knowledge."
"Do you remember that episode of Buffy when everyone in town gets possessed?" Asher asks. "Maybe Emberwood is going full Buffy. If anyone starts acting weird, I say we stock up on wooden stakes."
I blink at him. "Everyone in Emberwood acts weird.”
"Okay, well, weirder than usual."
The bell above the door chimes as we enter Wildflowers & Wellness.
A rush of warm, herb-scented air hits me, along with the faint metallic tang of active spellwork.
Lanterns flicker in acknowledgment of our magic as we step inside, and I look around, remembering all the times Mom brought me in here as a kid.
It's crazy how different things feel now.
The shop is quiet, with only one other customer examining dried herbs near the back. The girl behind the counter is my age, with dark brown hair pulled into a messy bun and hazel eyes that track our entrance with polite interest.
Her name tag reads "Isobella" in neat handwriting.
Mica's words echo in my head. Isobella will walk if the situation deteriorates further.
I school my expression, pulling out the list Sebastian gave me. I doubt very much that she'll bring up Mica's defection plans in a shop where any Emberwood witch could overhear.
Laurel could have spies anywhere, especially if things are as tense as Mica suggested.
"Blessed be, Orion."
"Blessed be, Isobella. This is Poppy and Asher."
Isobella smiles, and it transforms her whole face from quietly pretty to genuinely warm. "Namaste. It's wonderful to meet you both. How can I help you?"