The lone butterfly swirls again, bringing another smile to my lips. A flutter to my heart.
If Devlin taught me anything, it’s this.
The show must go on.
Pity party officially over, I rise from the couch like a revenant, a ghoulish monster resurrected for a singular purpose. With cold, stiff limbs, I lumber over to the kitchen and put on the kettle.
I need something strong today.
Not Get It, Girl.
More like… Beat Their Asses, Rip Out Their Hearts, And Leave No Traitors Alive.
I get to work mixing the brew—black puerh tea, grated ginger, two whole cinnamon sticks, dark chocolate shavings, a pat of butter because I fucking deserve it, and a hint of crushed red pepper toreallysend the message home.
Then, steeping the heady mix, I recite a new spell, all my own.
From ashes I rise, my purpose now clear
I call on my magic, no longer in fear
My strength is within, but help I may need
To follow my heart, wherever it leads
The tea swirls and shimmers in the pot, infused with my magic, my intention, the force of my will. The moment it touches my lips, I feel it working, fueling me with a shocking clarity and determination I haven’t felt in…
Well, since I first opened Kettle and Cauldron.
With steady hands, I reach beneath the counter and retrieve the folder. The one Devlin left with all the so-called evidence against Brandt. The one I’ve been ignoring because I was butt-hurt and too freaking stubborn to realize—despite his sneaking around, despite the underhanded way he went about things—Devlin reallywastrying to help me.
That he’s helping mestill, from wherever he is now.
“Thank you,” I whisper, my heart cracking, but still beating. Still surviving, just like it always has.
Then I whip open that folder. And there, right on top of the stack, a new Tarot message awaits.
No, not one of the charging Knights preparing me for the battle ahead. Not one of the Queens reminding me to be fearless and wise. Not even the Devil himself.
But the gentle, inspiring Ace of Pentacles.
And this time, as I gaze at the image on the card—a hand outstretched from the sky bestowing a golden pentacle to a young witch, her face alight with hope and possibility as she reaches out to take it—it’s not the voice of my intuition whispering in my mind.
It’s Gigi, as clear as if she were standing right beside me, squeezing my shoulders and sending me out into the world to face another day with grace and determination.
Every day is a gift, Violet. Find the joy in this one. Do that every day, one after the other, and your entire life will be filled with beautiful blessings.
She said it to me often. Whenever I was struggling at school, or trying to make sense of my confusing magic, or resenting the parents who abandoned me, or feeling like I was running out of reasons to stick around, even for myself.
Gigi reminded me that there wasalwaysa reason. Big, small, it didn’t matter. I had only to find it. To acknowledge it. To accept the gifts inherent in every new day.
I close my eyes, and again, I think of Devlin.
For better or worse, everything he did—from the moment I served him his first cup of Welcome to Wayward Bay tea—he did it for me.
All the times he tested my boundaries or pushed me out of my comfort zone, he was teaching me how to truly live. How to break out of my own limiting beliefs and trust myself. How to jump like the Fool of the Tarot right off the cliff, with a smile on my lips and joy in my heart, and trust that whatever awaited me at the bottom would be better than whatever I left behind.
You’ve got this, Violet. You always have.
