Epilogue
LIORA
“I’m really not sure about this whole marshmallow on tatties thing.” Agnes frowned down at the dish of sweet potatoes she was unwrapping. She darted a worried look over her shoulder at Sophie, who was overseeing the Thanksgiving proceedings with militant efficiency.
“Stuffing goes here. Green bean casserole next. Mashed potatoes. Sweet potato—” Sophie’s head shot up as she looked across the restaurant until her eyes landed on Agnes. “Agnes? Did you make the sweet potato casserole?”
“Aye,” Agnes said, lifting the pan in the air. “But are you certain it calls for marshmallows? I feel like you’re having me on, Sophie.”
“I promise, it’s a thing.” Sophie grinned and grabbed the dish from Agnes’s hands.
“You could have just let me cook it all,” Lia said.
“And what’s the fun in that? Is it even Thanksgiving if you’re not judging what dish someone brings?” Sophie arched an eyebrow and I bit back a laugh.
“There’s the thankful and loving spirit we’re looking for, dear.” Lottie nodded briskly and Sophie laughed.
“Don’t act like you weren’t pleased when your stuffing won first prize at the neighborhood Thanksgiving potluck.”
“As it well should have.” Lottie sniffed and patted the pink feather fascinator tucked in her hair. “I do make the best stuffing.”
“We’ll see about that.” Ramsay, Willow’s gruff boyfriend who I’d only heard speak about ten words ever, glowered over his dish at Lottie.
“You don’t scare me,” Lottie said. “I won six years in a row. And one year it was against a man whose husband was a food critic.”
Matthew whistled low in appreciation. “It’s virtually impossible to beat a gay with food training and a flair for presentation.”
“I saw him crying into his martini later that night.” Lottie sighed with satisfaction.
“I had no idea Thanksgiving was so ruthless,” Torin said, coming forward to hand me a glass of champagne.
We were gathered at Grasshopper, once again, but this time in far better spirits than the last time we’d all come here, dirtied, bloodied, and terrified for what the Kelpies had shown us. Though it had only been a couple of weeks since our run-in with the Kelpies and Zara’s fall, a lot had changed.
And one of the changes was that I, apparently, cooked now.
Well, we cooked. Torin had taken one look at my panicked face as I’d stared down at the mounds of brussels sprouts and bacon and had taken pity on me.
Together, we’d prepared roasted brussels sprouts with crispy bacon and gorgonzola, and I could only pray that it gained Sophie’s approval.
“Liora?” My eyes snapped to Sophie’s face, and I realized she’d said my name twice now. “The sprouts?”
“Right here,” I said, rushing forward. I carefully placed the dish on the table and stepped back, heart pounding, as she lifted the corner of tinfoil and checked inside.
“You did great,” Sophie said, beaming at me. “Looks roasted to perfection.”
“Oh thank the goddess,” I murmured, stepping back as she turned a laser eye on Orla and Finlay.
“Don’t say you’ve let me down on biscuits now.”
“Right, so here’s the thing…” Orla said, stepping forward with a mutinous expression on her face. “Your biscuits are not real biscuits, so there was a tad bit of confusion—”
“You didn’t…” Sophie sucked in a breath.
“Oh I have an idea what’s coming.” Willow exchanged a look with Lia, who only shook her head sadly.
“It’s about to be a blood bath.”
“What’s happening?” Torin whispered in my ear, wrapping an arm around my waist and handing me back my champagne glass.
“I think Sophie’s going to fight Orla? It’s hard to tell.”
“I’ve got money on Sophie,” Lachlan said, coming up next to us. “She’s efficient and terrifying.”
“I don’t know, mate,” Munroe, Lia’s partner and owner of Common Gin, leaned in. “I’ve seen Orla on the job site, and she’s scary good with power tools.”
“As you requested.” Orla raised her voice and uncovered her tray. “Biscuits.”
Sophie sucked in a breath and we all leaned forward.
“Oh shit,” Kaia said, turning to give Willow and Lia a knowing look.
Orla shoved her shoulders back and turned, presenting a tray of perfectly cooked shortbread biscuits to the room.
I released a sigh of relief.
“Those are lovely, Orla. Well done,” I said, needing to fill the silence.
“It’s the wrong biscuits,” Lia hissed and I blinked at her.
“These are biscuits,” Orla said, plopping the tray down on the table, her expression mutinous.
“Those are shortbread cookies.” Sophie jabbed a finger in the direction of the table. “Biscuits are—”
“These?” Matthew strode forward and uncovered a dish full of what looked to be scones.
“Yes, these!” Sophie crowed and clapped her hands. Leaning up, she kissed Matthew’s cheek and pointed for him to place his dish on the table with the dinner food. Scooping up Orla’s biscuits, she gave her a look. “I’ll just be putting these on the dessert table.”
“You’re welcome,” Orla called loudly to Sophie’s retreating back.
“For what it’s worth, love, they’re damn good biscuits.” Finlay came forward and wrapped his arm around Orla’s shoulder.
“I thought they looked lovely,” I added.
“Nobody’s going to complain about extra shortbread, I can promise you that,” Archie barked from where he walked into the room carrying a massive turkey on a platter. “Out of my way, the lot of you. It’s time to carve the turkey.”
“I’ve never done a Thanksgiving meal before, but this all looks cracking, doesn’t it?” Torin said, and I glanced up at him, my heart still doing that funny little flutter in my chest whenever I looked at him.
“Aye, it does. Aside from the marshmallow on sweet potatoes. I’m not so sure about that.”
“I’ll try anything once.” Torin gave me a look that had heat curling through me. “Have I told you how pretty you look tonight?”
“Thank you,” I said, my cheeks heating at his compliment.
I wore a plum-colored wrap dress with my gran’s brooch pinned at my shoulder.
Two more opals had shown up after the battle, and I’d been told my challenges were complete.
Sophie surmised that selflessly racing to Zara’s side in the Kelpie attack and showing a genuinely contrite heart with Torin regarding what the spell had cost him had earned me my opals.
The brooch itself looked as though the opals had always been there, the Celtic dragons curling around the three stones as if they were their eggs, and I couldn’t help but wonder if there had been some link to my brooch and the dragon that had revealed itself from the shadowy depths of Loch Mirren.
“Have I told you how happy I am that you’re with someone who compliments you?” Zara asked from where she sat, Mitch at her side, waiting for instructions on food.
“And you look beautiful as well,” Torin added and Zara’s smile widened.
“No need to flatter me, Torin, I already gave Liora my approval for you.”
Zara had stayed with us for a week after her injuries were healed, and in that time, we’d come to a new agreement.
She was going to be less critical of my choices, and I was going to be more understanding of why she’ll never stop worrying about me.
It felt like we were stepping into a new stage of our relationship, as sisters who respected each other as adults.
I guess staring down mythological beasts together would do that to a relationship.
“What’s this table?” Kaia asked and I turned from Torin, looking to where a long child’s-height table sat next to the big table.
“Honestly? I’m not sure,” I said, tilting my head at it.
“For all of our … extra friends,” Lia said, nodding as movement blurred past her and an array of dishes appeared on the short table.
As if on cue, the door opened and in marched Gnorman, his arm tucked around Gnora’s waist, both looking dapper in their finest clothes.
Behind them trailed a veritable parade of animals.
Two hedgehogs waddled in, followed by a crow hopping along, with Gloam behind them.
Bracken appeared, racing in circles around the herd of dogs, who were, admittedly, on their best behavior and didn’t give chase.
Which was a miracle, considering Sir Buster was leading the pack and bristling with his usual barely contained rage.
Calvin, Willow’s cat, sauntered at the back of the pack, unconcerned with the dogs in his presence, seemingly in conversation with a Scottish terrier named Oban.
“Honestly, it’s incredible to see them all together,” Kaia murmured.
They all stopped in front of their spots, like a well-trained parade, and looked expectantly at Sophie for instructions.
“Right, that’s everyone here. Archie’s carving the turkey, the rest of you, grab a plate and line up.
Brice, can you get the food for our wee friends please?
” Sophie ordered, and we all fell in line, grabbing our plates and heaping food on them, even though some of the dishes made me raise my eyebrows.
“Don’t look at my sweet potatoes like that, Liora,” Agnes said, glaring across the table at me. Graham sat next to her, and he leaned a shoulder into hers, his lips quirking in a smile as he studied his plate.
“It’s just that marshmallows are a bit of a stretch for tatties, aren’t they, darling?”
Agnes huffed, stabbing a marshmallow with her fork. “I trusted Sophie. But honestly, I’ve no idea what I made. This just feels wrong.”
Graham leaned in, not crowding her, just close enough that his shoulder brushed hers. He studied the dish like it mattered. Like she mattered.
“You made something people are arguing about,” he said gently. “That’s usually the mark of a good recipe.”
She snorted. “That’s the mark of chaos.”
“Mm. I’ve tasted chaos before.” He picked up his fork. “Usually disappointing. This”—he took a bite, chewed slowly, then smiled, soft and unmistakably sincere—“is actually lovely.”
Agnes waved a hand. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I still want to.”
Her eyes flicked to him, sharp and guarded. “You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“No,” he said, and there was no teasing in it now. “I’m saying it because you made it. And because you always think what you do isn’t enough.”
She looked back down at her plate. “Careful, Graham.”
I watched the exchange in fascination, wondering just how much Agnes was hiding from us.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” He shook his head. “Just … I like seeing you proud of something. Even if it’s marshmallows on tatties.”
Agnes’s mouth curved despite herself. “That might be the lowest bar you’ve ever set.”
“I’d raise it for you,” he said without thinking.
Agnes cleared her throat and leaned back, her gaze guarded. “Well, don’t get carried away. I’ll still be blaming Sophie if anyone dies.”
“I’ll tell anyone who asks that it was the best Thanksgiving dish I’d ever had, and that I’d eat it again any day of the week.”
She shook her head, lips twitching. “You’re impossible.”
“Aye,” he said softly. “But I’m on your side.”
Across the table, Lia coughed pointedly into her wine. “You all are going to make me tear up into my wine.”
Agnes and Graham spoke at once.
“He just doesn’t like seeing me sad.”
“She doesn’t realize how good she is at pretty much everything.”
They turned to each other, and despite whatever odd tension bounced between them, they beamed at each other. They must have come to a truce of sorts, and I wondered if this was a Thanksgiving miracle.
And that was when the miracle ended.
It started with Bracken.
One second my squirrel was perched innocently on the edge of the low table, stuffing his cheeks with something suspiciously shiny, and the next—he bolted.
Straight across the floor.
Sir Buster’s head snapped up.
“Oh no,” I breathed.
Too late.
The dogs exploded into motion, as Sir Buster led the charge with a battle cry that could only be described as personal vengeance. Oban followed, barking wildly, with the others joining in, tails and ears flying.
“Bracken!” I shouted.
You’ll never take my freedom!
The squirrel shrieked … an impressive sound, honestly … and launched himself onto the back of Gloam, who squealed and took off in the opposite direction, weaving between legs and under tables.
Plates clattered. Someone screamed. Lottie stood, clutching her napkin to her chest. “That’s enough!”
“Get the dogs,” Sophie roared, pointing like a general.
“I’ve got Sir Buster … nope—” Lachlan skidded sideways as Sir Buster ducked under his arm.
Bracken made a daring leap for greenery that lined the walls, misjudged it entirely, and landed in the gravy boat.
Chaos peaked.
And then—
A moooo bellowed through the restaurant, halting everyone in their tracks.
Every head turned.
Hovering serenely above the dessert table, translucent and glowing faintly blue, Clyde blinked into existence, a spectral pie balanced delicately on his nose.
The dogs froze.
Bracken froze.
Even Sir Buster sat.
A collective silence fell.
“Is that a pumpkin pie?” Matthew whispered.
The dogs, apparently deciding that ghosts outranked squirrels, slowly backed away. Bracken took the opportunity to scramble up the greenery wall, chittering victoriously, gravy dripping from his fur.
Applause broke out. Actual applause.
“Well,” Sophie said, straightening. “I guess that’s Thanksgiving, then.”
Eventually, the room settled. Laughter lingered like warmth in the air, the kind that settled into your bones. Torin squeezed my hand, and I leaned into him without thinking, my heart steady and full in a way it hadn’t been in … ever.
I looked around the table. At my friends. My sister, smiling and safe. At magick woven so tightly into the ordinary that it felt like it had always belonged here. At the low table, now calm again, where hedgehogs nibbled politely and the dogs pretended not to watch the squirrel.
And I felt it.
That quiet click inside my chest.
I was exactly where I needed to be.
My astrology business was growing—booked solid weeks out now.
People were coming not just for answers, but for comfort and clarity, for a sense that the universe might be listening after all.
My powers were intact, humming gently under my skin, no longer something to fear or fight, but something to live alongside.
For the first time in my life, I wasn’t waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well, at least not until we figured out what to do with the Kelpies. But that was a worry for another day.
I lifted my glass.
“To gratitude,” I said softly.
And as everyone echoed it back—laughing and clinking glasses—I knew this wasn’t an ending at all.
It was only just the beginning.
Don't you think it's time for Bracken to find love? Read on for a fun scene where Bracken meets Hazel and Torin helps build them a home.