Page 84 of Summer L.A.W.

Inside, the mansion felt almost comatose. The walls didn’t hum, lanterns were dimmed to amber, and the hearth in the main room extinguished without anyone touching it. For once, the house seemed content.

So did the witches. The only emotions were warmth, peace, and the rare kind of quiet that only arrived after a powerful ritual. Especially since they knew this time was their sacred sabbatical from responsibility.

Joell padded toward the stairs, already flipping open her laptop. “All right,” she declared, “I’m going to write my hero into a corner and then force him to emotionally grow his way out.”

Crowe met her on the stairs, his arms braced on the banister. “That’s oddly specific.”

Joell smirked. “Romance isn’t for sissies.”

Lioness swept toward her studio, trailing fabric swatches and purpose. “My lovers are about to reunite under a blood moon and argue about destiny. Wish me combustible chemistry.”

Brianna carried a stack of journals toward her room. “Time-travel lovers separated by near death. Again. Because apparently, I’m consistent.”

Rayna collapsed onto the main sofa, tossing her sword onto the rug. “I’m writing the smuttiest fight scene imaginable,” she said. “Lots of violence, lots of kissing, and absolutely no waiting for Payne to text me. I’m very evolved now.”

Sahara held up her tablet. “I’m writing cozy witch lit. No chaos, no disasters, no emotional train-wrecks.”

Everyone stared.

Sahara rolled her eyes. “Fine. Minimal emotional roller coasters.”

Wally hopped into Magda’s arms, purring like a malfunctioning motorboat. Magda scratched between his ears. “I promised myself I’d write today,” she whispered, “but I’m stuck between writing a romantic breakthrough and documenting the chemistry behind Potion #5.”

Wally blinked slowly, encouragingly, like a furry therapist who got paid in snacks.

Magda sighed. “You’re right. Writing first, while the motivation lasts. Science later.”

She curled up in the parlor’s loveseat near the window, notebook open, pen ready. The mountain view stretched endlessly, a ripple of blues and greens fading into woods. Peaceful. Inspiring. Exactly what she needed.

She wrote one sentence. Then crossed it out. Then wrote another. Crossed that out too.

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Ugh. Why is it easier to blow up a greenhouse than write a love scene?”

Her phone buzzed.

One message from Chad to the whole group.

Magda blinked. Chad never texted during their sabbatical unless it was absolutely necessary or mildly catastrophic. She opened it.

All good here. There is absolutely nothing wrong. Do not worry. Everyone is safe.

Still, if you have a moment this week, I may need some very tiny, minor witch assistance. Not urgent. Not dangerous. Probably fine.

Enjoy Tennessee!

Magda stared.

Rayna peeked around the corner into the lounge. “He typed ‘not dangerous.’ That means something caught fire.”

“Or escaped,” Brianna added from the next room.

Lioness called from the hallway, “Or multiplied!”

Sahara and the rest of the witches found their way into the front room, frowning at the wording. “He separated ‘tiny’ from ‘minor.’ Suspicious. Very suspicious.”

Magda reread the message, pulse picking up. “Should we call him?”

“No,” Joell said firmly. “This is our week off. PMDD law is clear.”