Page 5

It’s a good problem, but a problem nevertheless.

“Anything call out to you?” I ask as I click through the files. “I mean, the apothecary is a must-have. The Moonlit Tavern, of course.”

“The antique shop?” Even though he doesn’t sound too sure of himself, it’s a relief to see him putting effort in.

I’ve known Antoni for a long time, and I never imagined him taking a government position. Jewel, my coven leader, encouraged me to pick him, and it’s rare for me to turn her down. She’s usually right in the end.

“She applied this year?” I nod, huffing. “Huh. Yeah. Might as well try it out. Maybe she would be interested in a charity auction.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

I wave a hand vaguely. “Great minds.”

The vendors are just one part of the event. There’s also live music, great food, hayrides, and mazes. To me, the most important part of all is the charity picnic auction, but of course, local farmers also showcase their harvests and sell their goods.

And I’m the one who plans all of these things. Every year. It gets a little monotonous, but I’ve been finding ways to shake it up.

Every witch knows autumn brings a time of change and renewal. Who knows what it’s going to bring this year?

Chapter 2

Aurora

Starbrook is a few hours away from Moonglade Harbor, where we’ve been living for the past few years, but everything here is different. You’d never know we’re still in the same state. There’s no ocean breeze, just crisp air, dirt, and dying foliage. The people are far too friendly. And our new home…

There’s something off about it.

A shiver runs up my spine as I stare up at the cottage. It was built in the nineties, supposedly, and it’s been abandoned for years—until now. Mom has some grand ideas of fixing it up, and it’s technically livable, but I would kill to be back in my studio apartment in Moonglade Harbor.

Anywhere but here, honestly.

I’m here for her. After Dad died, Mom spent years holing herself up in her room. She stopped painting. Stopped teaching art classes. Stopped calling her friends. Eventually, she even stopped calling me unless I reached out first. It wasn’t that she didn’t care.

She was lost. How was I supposed to help? I was, too. I still am.

When she came to us, gushing about moving to Starbrook, about the house she got a great deal on, my brothers and I offered to join her. Her burst of energy is more concerning than comforting. Mom has always had times of intense highs and lows. She also goes through periods of forgetting to take her medication, no matter how often we remind her to.

And I do remind her. All the damn time, including right now. It was a long, early drive to Starbrook, and we hardly had time to stop. Not even for important things, like this.

I slip beside her now, giving her a bottle of water and a pointed look. “Before we get started for the day. There’s a lot of unpacking to do.”

She sighs wistfully. “I know, I know.”

My mother is beautiful. Her silvery hair is the exact color of the pop of white in my bangs and at the front of my head. She’s a mirror of how I’ll probably look when I’m older. But her eyes are lighter, her skin is more golden than porcelain, and she has more spirit in one thumb than I have in my entire body. Even when mourning tries to take that away, it can’t. She’s so her.

Without looking at me, she swallows the pills and tucks the bottle under her arm. That’s that. She claps her hands together, right onto the next thing. It’s only a second before she breezes into the cottage.

This project is probably what she needs, and I want to be here for her, but I’m barely myself. When I was younger, I think I would have romanticized painting the walls to my liking and creating my perfect stargazing spot in the backyard. Now, the idea of painting a single wall is exhausting.

My older brother, Leo, runs inside before I can follow, his heavy boots clomping against the wooden deck. “Oh, fuck yeah. This place is creepy as hell.”

Creepy? Not quite.

I exchange a look with my younger brother, Luke. “Not exactly selling it, is he?”

“It’s not creepy,” Mom yells from inside. “It’s lovely.”

She’s right. Despite the eerie energy around it, the cottage is ethereal, with a cobbled path and plenty of greenery. Someone clearly took care of the yard, even when it was abandoned. The home itself is larger than I’d expect a cottage to be, made of natural bricks and wood, but with a dark trim that makes it pop. Flowers bloom everywhere, from the windowsills and covering the house in ivy.