How she managed to make a hot slushy is beyond me, but hey. Magic. Hell of a thing.
“I was going to say a bubble bath and a German chocolate cupcake,” I reply, “but this looks even better.”
“Witch-N-Bitch Happy Hour is officially in session.” She gestures for the others to grab a slushy. “And you guys are going tolovethis. Trust me—it’s written in the stars.”
“You would know.” I wink at my sister and take the offered mug, my bath-and-cupcake pity party plans evaporating.
That’s okay, though. I’m glad my coven sisters are here—their particular brand of whimsy with a sprinkle of crazy is just what I need. They showed up right after I got my letter of doom, which is unsurprising. The five of us aren’t related by blood, but our connection runs deep. Whenever one of us is in trouble, we all sense it. More accurately, Fiona senses it—a disturbance in the force, as she describes it—and immediately tells the others. Our very own witchy phone tree.
Thankfully, my sister’s psychic abilities never reveal the specifics of those disturbances. Exhibit A: my nastygram from Nathan.
Beneath the counter, shoved behind the stack of clean aprons, his letter lingers. It’s tucked out of sight, but I can still feel it, every word embedded in my mind, blinking at me like a big flashing sign:Failure! Failure! Failure!
“Here’s to a better tomorrow,” Fiona says, and we all raise a mug to that. “And to Peen Beans getting shut down for unspecified, non-apocalyptic health code violations and/or a flood of terrible online reviews Darla and I may or may not know something and/or nothing about.”
“Here, here.” I tip the mug back, and down the hatch it goes.
The drink is sweet and citrusy with just the right amount of mint and far too much alcohol, the rum hitting me hard and fast. After just a few sips, the sting of today’s disaster starts to dull.
“She’s smiling, everyone,” Fiona says, and the lights flicker again, this time sending Grumpy and Sunshine bolting back upstairs. We all hoot and holler at that, relocating our happy-hour adventures to the two velvet couches in the back, right near the fireplace.
The darkness snuck up on us early tonight, the storm casting Main Street in an ominous black shimmer. But here inside Kettle and Cauldron, After-Hours Edition, the fire crackles, the familiar laughter of my favorite witches filling the café, soothing me in a way no spell or even a cup of my special tea ever could. This kind of magic is something else entirely. Love and friendship and sisterhood, pure and simple. The balm that heals all wounds.
I didn’t realize how much I needed it until now.
“Don’t worry, Vi.” Emmie pulls me in for a side hug. “After a few days, the newness will wear off, the free hats will be gone, and things will be right back to normal over here.”
Her declaration is met with a chorus of nods and affirmations, and I smile and nod right along with them. But through all their encouragement, through all the laughs and Peen Bean jokes, my stomach churns with anxiety. “Right back to normal” is no longer good enough. Not the kind of good enough that can bring in $100,000 in a month’s time.
“Besides,” Olivy adds with a cool confidence I onlywishI possessed, “if anyone can handle a little competition, it’s VioletFuckingPepperdine.”
“Youhaveto say that,” I reply. “You’re my sisters.”
“We say it because it’s true.” Emmie squeezes my cheeks. “Don’t let this cute face fool you, friends. Behind the big glasses and shy smile, our girl is a witchy, formidable, tea-slinging badass.”
“At least one of those things, anyway.” I laugh and swat her hand away, then reach for my mug, surprised to find it empty, one of Gigi’s Tarot cards stuck to the bottom.
“Who is it this time?” Darla wants to know.
Glancing at the figure on the card—a beautiful nude woman with long silver hair kneeling beside a stream, a bright seven-pointed star illuminating the landscape—I smile. “The Star.”
“Your favorite,” Darla says softly. “See? Even the cards know you’re going to be okay.”
I want to believe it, too. That the card heralds a time of healing and renewal, of inspiration, the guiding light and north star of my heart. But when I close my eyes and brush my fingertips along the card’s border now, I hear only a faint whisper…
If you don’t believe in yourself, Violet Pepperdine, how can anyone else?
“Um, Violet?” Olivy says. “Looks like your Star brought a plus-one.”
Damn it.I know who it is before I even look at him.
“Didn’t we talk about this?” I open my eyes and glare at the late-arriving Devil, all swagger and shine, horns gleaming.
You haven’t told them yet,my intuition nags.You can’t run from this forever…
“Clearly we need more booze.” Fiona heads back to the kitchen to whip up another batch of Lemonitos, and for the moment, the conversation fades to a comfortable silence, all of us momentarily seduced by the heady mix of the autumn night—the dance of the golden flames, the scent of fallen leaves and candle wax and vanilla tea floating in the air, the cozy Celtic harp on my latest café playlist.
Safe and warm in my favorite place, surrounded by my favorite people, part of me wishes Icouldtell them the truth. About my crushing debt, Nathan’s deadline, all the stupid mistakes I made that landed me in this pickle.
