Page 101 of Autumn L.A.W

Duke adjusted his position and lifted the unconscious woman over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Victoria felt a wave of relief wash over her as they reached the mansion. She knew that she and Duke had done what they’d set out to do. She could almost feel her body starting to return to her. Already she felt taller! Glancing down, however, she was still looking at short legs. It must be wishful thinking.

At the mansion, the witches secured the woman to Victoria’s four-poster bed with silk scarves.

Duke prepared to leave again to bring back the final ingredient… The corpse plant.

Victoria watched him go, then turned to the others. “Thanks for the assist, everyone. I never thought we’d get here. So much has happened.” She was relieved that Duke was gone, in a way. She had so much to tell her L.A.W. sisters—privately.

The witches were celebrating Samhain the following night, the feast honoring their ancestors, the bounty of the last harvest, and the beginning of the pagan new year. It would be a typical Wiccan ritual with all the witches of the L.A.W. in attendance. Hopefully, they would have everything they’d need to incorporate her body-switching spell into the circle of power. Then it couldn’t fail.

After relaxing and catching up for the remainder of the day, Victoria confessed to her wonderful friends how her feelings for Duke had grown. It was beyond gratitude. Beyond admiration. She was scared it might be love.

Rayna groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Oh, no.”

“Another one bites the dust,” Lioness said, perkily.

The witches offered to take turns and make sure that the thief who looked like Victoria was safe and secure.

The group stayed up late, talking about their experiences and discussing the spell. As the night wore on, they decided on a plan to make the woman relax. They would purposely foster a sense of belonging and comfort with the witches to better understand what happened from the other woman’s point of view. Villains always think they’re in the right. What went into this woman’s decision to ‘steal’ another person’s life?

The following evening, the lawn behind the mansion didn’t so much host a ritual as become one. Lanterns flickered to life along the perimeter, their glow catching on low-hanging branches and turning the whole place into something halfway between a sacred fairy grove and a very exclusive outdoor party. The grass had that crisp, late-autumn crunch underfoot. Breath showed in faint puffs.

Magda, Sahara, Joell, Crystal, Lioness, Brianna, Rayna, and Victoria took their places in a loose circle while a very disgruntled Rosa remained tied to Victoria’s four-poster bed.

Somewhere above them, Brianna’s owl let out a sharp hoot, like it was thinking, “You’re late…”

“Noted,” Brianna muttered, glancing up. “We’ll be spooky on schedule next time.”

Crowe moved at the edge of the clearing, a sleek shadow that caught the lanternlight just enough to remind the world he was not decorative. He paused, sniffed the air, then continued his patrol with the quiet confidence of someone who had learned to break bones. Joell trained him, after all. If Duke showed up hauling that corpse plant, Crowe would smell him coming and let him through.

Joell watched him for half a second, a faint smirk tugging at her mouth. “He’s in a mood.”

“He’s always in a mood,” Crystal said.

“Yes,” Joell replied. “But tonight it’s leftover from when he was my black cat.”

“Ah, yes. You always put him on lockdown during Samhain.”

“Idiots capturing black cats for nefarious purposes should be shot.”

“And would have been with your cute little Derringer,” Lioness quipped.

The other witches’ snickers filled the circle until Sahara stepped forward, and the noise died without anyone being told to shut up. She didn’t need to. Something about the way she held herself pulled the others taut.

“Circle, casting,” she said calmly.

Hands lifted. Everyone took three deep pranic breaths, picturing the air flowing from above their heads through the soles of their feet, into the earth, and back again to connect to the sky. As energy flowed through them, the world outside the ring softened, blurred at the edges as if it had politely agreed to mind its own business.

Sahara walked the perimeter, her wand tracing an invisible line that didn’t stay invisible for long. The air shimmered blue in her wake, a faint distortion, like heat over pavement.

By the time she returned to her place, the circle was cast. Victoria felt the safety of the circle settled behind her, a quiet presence.

Magda crouched beside the cauldron and struck a match. The flare snapped bright in the darkness before the flame took hold of the kindling. Wood caught with a low crackle, and soon the fire was alive, licking the underside of the iron pot. The scent of burning wood curled into the night, warm and grounding.

The first chant started low, almost conversational, then layered as the others joined in. Voices braided together, some steady, some musical, some a little too enthusiastic, but all of them anchored in the same rhythm.

The ground seemed to thrum. Or maybe that was Victoria’s pulse. Hard to tell anymore.