“Honestly, the fact that witches don’t like human men is the sanest thing you’ve said all day.” I guffawed. “But Dad is a total butterball. He dresses the dogs up for Halloween and cries at Christmas movies.”
“I know,” Mom said in a tone that suggested she’d had this conversation many times. “He was never going to be what my family wanted for me, so I left, started a new life—a happy life. We found jobs we loved, ones that meant we could travel the world and see more than my little town could offer. But I’ll admit, I miss this place and I kind of wish I’d tried harder not to sever all ties with it.” She shook her head as if she could dislodge the thought from her mind. “Oh well, it’s too late now.”
“So this sudden change of heart is why you sent me to a summer camp for man-hating witches?”
“It’supstandingwitches now.” Mom laughed. “They had to change it for legal reasons. Apparently, men don’t find the humor in it when we call ourselves man-hating witches, but they think it’s ‘just a joke’ when they call us that. Talk about irony. But it isn’t as scary as it sounds. You’ll have fun, hon, I promise.”
We rounded a corner, and the forest parted to reveal the campsite.
I didn’t know what to expect, butthiswasn’t it. It looked like the quintessential summer camp taken straight out of a movie:a giant crystalline lake with a dock in the middle, canoes lining the shore, and ringed-in stretches of teeming deciduous forest. A giant stretch of yellowing grass with a kickball field, a rock-climbing wall, and a giant mess hall and rec center made up the hub of the camp.
Down by the beach at the lake’s edge was a giant firepit surrounded by bench seating, and I was already imagining a perky camp counselor whipping out a guitar and leading us in a group sing-along. And all around the clearing was an expanse of lush New England forest dotted with little cabins that stretched through the swampland toward Maple Hollow. Apparently, there were also two other paranormal summer camps out to the west.
As we kept driving into the open expanse, I shook my head in awe. The entire place was an odd combination ofWet Hot American SummerandThe Parent Trapwith a dash ofPractical Magic. It was as if nothing had been touched in decades.
Distracted as we took in the sight, we were surprised when a perky blonde girl jogged out in front of the car.
Mom slammed on the brakes.
The girl slapped a hand on Mom’s hood, and shadows swirled around her as she scowled. “Watch it!”
She blinked and the shadows disappeared as if she’d commanded them to do so. Then the scowling blonde turned up her nose and carried on running, her tits bouncing in a distracting way that I was one-hundred percent certain she was doing on purpose.
Mom’s face pinched as the girl crossed the field.
“Do you know her?” I asked.
“She looks like Susie Cunningham’s daughter,” Mom said. “She’s the spitting image. I heard she had a daughter around the same time as I did. Susie’s mother is the coven leader,” sheadded in a whisper, as if the car were eavesdropping on her. “I’d steer clear of Blondie if I were you. The Cunninghams are not the biggest fans of our family.”
“Avoid Blondie. Got it,” I said with a dutiful nod. “Any other mortal enemies I need to know about before entering the lion’s den?”
“I promise, it’s just like any other summer camp, hon,” Mom said as she pulled up to the rec center and put the car in park.
A handwritten sign was taped to the screen door that read, “Welcome, New Campers!”
I pointedly eyed a mousy brunette walking up the steps with a black cat under one arm and a broomstick under the other. My gaze slid to the crystals hanging in the cabin windows and the driftwood placards above the thresholds that named each of the cabins after different moons.
I let out a long sigh as I opened the door and let the humidity in. It smelled far too much like nature out here.
“Yep,” I grumbled. “Just another camp.”
4
Sabine
Iunpacked my duffel bag with all the grace of a pissed-off cat before claiming the top bunk ahead of my fellow Harvest Moon cabin counselor, Ophelia. I was 5’9” while she was 5’1”, so it felt only fair that I be awarded the additional headspace.
Also, Ophelia had a known penchant for hooking up in the bunk rooms with her girlfriend, Lucy, regardless of her bunkmate asleep below her. The last thing I needed was for the pathetic slats above my head to give out and have two girls mid-fuck crash down on me.
I let out a long breath through my nose. I hadn’t gotten laid in three months, and it was clearly beginning to sour my mood. My last “girlfriend” had been a werewolf who’d been a fun romp, but there’d been no real chemistry there outside of the bedroom. We’d lasted about a month before we’d both called it a day. Sex could only get us so far, I’d realized. And attachments were thelast things I needed, since I was planning on getting the hell out of Maple Hollow as soon as I graduated into the coven proper.
I patted my mattress. “I bet you’ve seen more action than a Dwayne Johnson movie, but you won’t be seeing any this summer,” I whispered to the lumpy fabric. “Sorry, ol’ gal.”
Because we were counselors, Ophelia and I had our own room, although it was closet-sized, which meant our sleeping area was tucked away from the other four bunk beds in the main part of the cabin, where the campers would be staying.
The air smelled musty despite the cleansing spell we’d performed the day before. I did kind of love it though, the smell of lake water and pine trees and the humidity rising off the earth. This pristine nature was the one thing I’d miss when I moved to the city, but I was sure walking through Central Park would satiate that need. As long as I had some time amongst the trees, I’d be fine.
The front door to the cabin groaned open, and I called out, “Campers are to report to the rec center, please!”
