Page 82 of Summer L.A.W.

Sahara tapped her tablet. “So, the meadow’s ready? Ley-lines stable? No emotional aftershocks from the teleport?”

“All clear,” Crowe confirmed. “And the altar is exactly where you left it last quarter. Nothing disturbed it.”

Lioness beamed. “See? Even nature respects art.”

The mansion rumbled, as if disagreeing with her.

Esmerelda clapped her hands. “Unpack, dears. Then, I’ll meet you in the clearing. Lammas prep waits for no witch.”

The witches drifted deeper inside as the mansion shook off the last of its teleport crankiness, settling into the mountain earth with a warm, welcoming shudder. Peace seeped in. Mountain air flowed through open windows. Somewhere, a creek babbled. The mood of the house softened. Magda took it all in and felt something unexpected bloom in her chest. Longing, curiosity, maybe even hope. And somehow, she knew it had to do with one microbiology professor.

The following day, the clearing looked like something out of a postcard dreamed up by witches who couldn’t decide between rustic charm and a full-blown magical spectacle. Lanterns hung from branches, glowing gold in the fading afternoon light. Wildflowers spiraled along the edges of the meadow, shifting in the wind as if waving. It could be the mountain’s way of showing off. The altar stood at the center, holding woven wheat, polished stones, bowls of herbs, and one disturbingly smug-looking squirrel perched like it was supervising.

“That had better not be Earl,” Lioness muttered.

Esmerelda squinted. “No, that one’s Mabel. Earl’s a possum, twice that size, and he has an ego the size of Texas.”

The witches arrived in pairs, arms full of offerings and supplies. Magda carried a basket of freshly clipped herbs from the greenhouse. Rosemary, lavender, chamomile, a few sprigs of heartvine, and a bundle of sweetgrass braided neatly with gold ribbon. Wally trotted at her heels, proudly dragging a stalk of rhubarb like a deflated balloon.

Sahara set down her electronic projector, which revealed an energy grid over the clearing. “Ley-lines stable, resonance balanced, no emotional spikes.”

Brianna sipped her coffee. “Bless the Goddess. I can only handle one mansion-wide estrogen tornado per quarter.”

Rayna, sword sheathed at her hip, hair windswept, and mood surprisingly mellow, sauntered over last. “Sorry. I was trying to meditate and not text Payne. Failed both.”

Sahara patted her arm. “It’s Lammas. Intention-setting. How about we visualize no romantic spirals?”

Rayna inhaled. “Right. Intention: don’t lose my mind if he calls. Or if he doesn’t. Ignoring either is progress.”

“Good girl,” Brianna murmured.

Rayna clapped loudly to regain control. “Let’s begin. Everyone, circle up.”

The witches formed a ring around the altar. The air warmed, thick with the scent of herbs and late afternoon sunlight, plus a magic that was older than the mountain itself.

“Let’s start,” Rayna said. She lit the incense, then walked the circle three times, pointing her wand over all their heads. “I cast and charge this circle to protect us from all negative and incorrect forces and energies that may come to do us harm. I draw into this circle only the aspects and energies of the universe that are most correct for our ritual intentions. I cast this circle and create sacred space.”

Everyone answered, “So mote it be.”

“Shall we call in the quarters by seniority?”

“Yes, let’s,” Joell said. She lit the first candle on the altar. Then she faced North and said, “Hail powers of the North; the power of Earth, Wood nymph, Mountains, and trees. Hail and welcome.

All the witches answered, “Hail and welcome!”

Sahara lit the next candle and said, “Hail, powers of the East. The powers of air, fairies, birds, and song. Hail and welcome.”

“Hail and welcome!”

Rayna lit the third candle. “Hail, powers of the South. The powers of fire, hot sun, passion, and flames. Hail and welcome.”

“Hail and welcome!”

Finally, Magda lit the candle representing the West. “Hail, powers of the West. The power of water, emotion, healing, and love. Hail and welcome.”

Hail and Welcome!”

They took a moment to watch the flames grow steady, even in the mountain breeze. “All right, everyone,” Rayna said. “Lammas marks the first harvest. Prosperity, growth, release, and gratitude.