Page 40 of Summer L.A.W.

“I’ve got my coffee,” Lioness said.

“That doesn’t count,” Victoria replied.

The world tilted. Light flooded the foyer. For a moment, it felt like they were falling sideways through the sunrise. Then, as quickly as it began, it was over.

The ocean was gone. In its place: rolling green hills, a sky full of lazy clouds, and the sound of cicadas sawing the air.

Upon opening the doors, pine trees framed the long, dirt driveway, and the scent of honeysuckle wafted through.

Stepping up onto the porch was a woman in a floral apron, balancing a covered plate. “Well,” she said, unruffled. “You girls sure know how to make an entrance.”

Joell grinned. “Esmerelda. You saw the shimmer coming?”

“Of course I did. The goats bolted ten seconds before you landed. That’s my early-warning system.” She held up the plate. “Blond brownies, still warm. Figured all that world-saving makes a body hungry.”

Lioness swooped forward and took them reverently. “You’re a goddess, Esme.”

“I keep telling folks that, but nobody listens.” Esmerelda adjusted her glasses. “You celebrating Litha again this year? I brought extra marshmallows for the fire pit, assuming Brianna hasn’t blown it up yet.”

“That was an experiment,” Brianna muttered.

“Mm-hm. So’s my lemonade, but at least mine’s drinkable. I’ll fetch some.”

As Esmerelda toddled back toward her cottage, the witches exhaled as one. The mansion creaked, then settled into its new surroundings, stretching out like a cat in sunlight.

Joell turned to the others. “All right, team. Let’s make this solstice count.”

Crystal stepped out onto the porch, eyes tracing the line of distant mountains glowing gold in the late afternoon light. “Yeah,” she murmured. “New season. New fight.”

Behind her, Lioness snorted. “And hopefully fewer near drownings.”

Magda clinked her glass against Lioness’s. “Cheers to that.”

“And to brownies,” Lioness added.

The laughter drifted out over the Tennessee hills, carried on warm wind and the soft, contented hum of a mansion finally home again.

11

That evening, Lioness and Rayna were stringing flower garlands between porch posts, arguing over whether symmetry or chaos better honored the solstice gods and goddesses. Sahara crouched in the grass, muttering warding incantations under her breath while her familiar—a sleek desert fox that had no business in Tennessee—kept trying to chase fireflies.

From somewhere inside, Brianna’s voice floated through the open windows. “Don’t light the torches yet! The wind wards aren’t up!”

A moment later, a whoosh of blue flame shot skyward.

“Sorry!” Lioness called, not sounding sorry at all.

Crystal stood at the edge of the porch, a mug of tea cooling between her hands. The mountains shimmered in the late sun, and the sky had that honeyed glow that only came before summer twilight.

Everything should have felt perfect. Peaceful. The calm after a storm.

Instead, she couldn’t stop seeing Mason’s face when he had walked away. The set of his jaw. The way his eyes had softened just for her, before he turned his back. She should’ve been relieved. He was safe, far from whatever magic or madness would come for her next.

So why did it feel like she’d just ripped out her own anchor?

“You look like someone canceled Yule,” Esmerelda said quietly, appearing beside her with two glasses of lemonade.

Crystal accepted the drink. “Just thinking.”