It’s his voice in my mind now, bolstering me, encouraging me.
I open my eyes and finish the last of my tea. From the bottom of the mug, a little black pitchfork winks up at me, and I laugh. I was so distracted when I first poured the tea, I didn’t even realize I was drinking from his mug all along.
The Devil Made Me Brew It,it says. And so many ways, hedid.
Now, he’s going to help mekeepbrewing it. Keep showing up. Keep Kettle and Cauldron alive, just like we set out to do on that first golden-dawned, post-magic morning oh so long ago.
I spread out all the paperwork on the counter, my heart pounding faster with every new detail revealed. Pages and pages of them—Brandt’s shady deals, ties to shell companies, foreign bank accounts, laundered funds. And the names—some I recognize from Remington Capital. Others straight from the headlines—CEOs of all different companies, mostly chains, the kinds of stores always in the news for squeezing out the mom-and-pop shops and treating their employees like absolute garbage. These men are all associates, all members of the same fraternity, all colluding to put Wayward Bay’s small business community in the ground.
The businesses they’ve targeted are listed here, too—every real estate transaction traced back to Nathan Pike. Corto’s Curiosities—the shop Mean Beans took over. Second Chance Romance, the old bookstore. And the places still on the chopping block—Kettle and Cauldron. Glaze for Days. Dozens upon dozens of others.
Fueled with a new rage, enhanced by my magical brew, I grab my phone and call Ricci. “This is going to sound completely out of left field, but… what do you know about Nathan Pike?”
“That fucking guy,” she says with a scoff, and that’s all the confirmation I need. “He owns my building. Bought out my lease from Fran Solomon a few months ago. At the time, he assured me nothing would change, but I just went to negotiate the renewal, and the jerk istriplingthe rent. When I tried to push back, he said he’s got plenty of other tenants lined up, willing to pay top dollar.”
“Seriously?”
“Same thing happened to Mavis over at the dog grooming place. And Paul Aberg’s hat shop. Nathan’s saying we can either pay up or move out. Technically, it’s within his rights to change the terms of a lease before renewal, but... I don’t know. Something’s fishy about the whole thing.”
“Ricci? You have no idea.”
The Ace of Pentacles gleams at me from the counter, reminding me that today is a gift. That I’m blessed with gifts—lots of them. Not just my magic. Not just my talent for teas. But my voice. A voice I’ve let other people silence for too long. People like Nathan, who tried to scare me into giving up my business without a fight. People like Brandt, who tried to make me feel like a useless bimbo with a cute little hobby that didn’t deserve to succeed.
People likeallthe men on this list, trying to silence the folks of Wayward Bay. Good folks. Witches, vampires, demons, fae, humans. All of us trying to build something special. Something meaningful.
“I was thinking about bringing it to the mayor’s attention,” Ricci says. “I’m not sure if there’s anything illegal going on, but maybe she can do some sniffing around. Seems like she’d want to know about all this, especially since she’s spearheading the small business initiatives.”
At the mention of Mayor Singh, a plan begins to crystalize in my mind. In my heart.
Going through with it means…Goddess. It means standing up in front of my friends and neighbors and admitting that I’ve failed, again and again and again. It means asking for help. From Ricci and the other business owners getting shafted. From everyone else who cares about the Bay as much as I do. From Olivy, too; she’s the one who found all the dirt on Brandt, so I want her at my side when I blow his ass out of the water.
I tremble just to think about it. And part of me—a very loud, very persuasive part—is telling me to run upstairs, queue up a new season of Charmed, and forget all about this taking-a-stand nonsense.
But I can’t just sack out on the couch and hope for the best anymore.
I willnotlet Brandt Remington the Third and the other members of Club Douche Bro carve this town into pieces and destroy its very soul.
“Ricci? I’ve got an idea.”
“I’m listening.”
“Can you get a hold of Mavis and Paul? And anyone else who’s had a run-in with Nathan or anyone at Remington Capital, and meet me at the town hall in an hour?”
“Sure thing,” Ricci says. “Should we bring anything?”
“Yes. Your ass-kicking boots.” I sweep the files back into the folder. “I’m going to expose these bastards for the lying, conniving assholes they are. And I’d love to have a few allies on my side.”
“You already know I’m in. And Violet?” Ricci laughs, rich and warm, and something in my chest loosens up, just enough to let a little hope in. “I’m pretty sure this is the start of a beautiful new friendship.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
DEVLIN
The acrid smoke hangs in a gray haze before me when Finn steps into my throne room, rolling his eyes and sighing as if I’ve unleashed a plague upon the world of men.
Again.
“Did you seriously just smite Azazel?” he demands.
