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“Maybe you ought to leave Natalie if you dislike her that much,” I remarked.

“Maybe.” He did that slinky motion that seemed to be the cat equivalent of a shrug. “I’ve really only been hanging around her waiting until a proper witch came along—someone who suited Cordelia’s standards.” He looked up at me. “I’m glad you happened into my life, if for no other reason that I got my favorite tuna again.”

I laughed.

“Well, you’re welcome. I just hope this little adventure doesn’t cost me my job.” I frowned. “I wonder if Natalie will tell Angie that I got sucked through a magical doorway?”

“Will Angie believe her if she does?” Bartleby asked skeptically.

“Probably not. Angie isn’t exactly a big believer in anything paranormal,” I admitted. “She turned down Natalie’s invitation to her pre-Halloween party. I guess I’ll just have to make up some dire family emergency when I finally go back home.”

“You’re assuming that you’re going to go home, though,” he pointed out. “Generally when people find out they have magical powers and land here in Hidden Hollow, they tend to stay.”

“Well, I can’t stay,” I said firmly. “I have a life to get back to.”

“You won’t stay even for a certain grumpy ghost?” he purred, giving me an amused look from the corner of his big golden eyes.

“Bartleby! I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but I would never—” I began.

“Oh—here we are!” he interrupted me and trotted up the front steps of The Red Lion Inn. “Come on,” he called, looking over his shoulder. “If anyone can help you figure out how to break that curse, it’s Goody Albright!”

And, since I didn’t seem to have a choice, I followed him up the steps and into the inn.

11

CELESTE

The interior of The Red Lion Inn made me feel like I was standing inside a piece of history. I’d been to Virginia and visited Monticello, the home of Thomas Jefferson, when I was a teen with a school trip and that was the same kind of vibe I was getting.

There were ancient looking portraits hung on all the walls—doubtless people who had died around the time our country was just getting started, I thought. The rugs on the floors were clean but faded and looked extremely old as well. But nothing was shabby or dirty—it was all “neat as a pin” as my grandmother would have said—and the furniture, which also looked antique, was perfectly maintained.

“Hello, can I help you?” A woman who looked like she was made from a living tree came bustling over to us. She was wearing a kind of uniform, and her skin was rough and brown like bark. Her hair looked like leaves and when she smiled, her teeth looked wooden.

“Um, er…” I felt a little taken aback but Bartleby wasn’t shy at all.

“Please tell Goody Albright that Bartleby is here and I’ve brought her a new witch, sent by Cordelia herself,” he said promptly.

“Oh, at once!” the wooden maid—if that was what she was—said and hurried off.

“You don’t have to look so scared of her—she’s only a Brownie,” Bartleby informed me. “Lots of them live around Hidden Hollow and Goody Albright hires them to staff the inn.”

“All right—I wasn’t scared. I’ve just never met a Brownie before,” I protested. “In fact, there are a lot of people here I thought were only in fairytales.”

“Welcome to the magical world.” Bartleby sounded amused. “You never can tell who or what you’re going to meet next.”

Just as he spoke, a woman who might have been anywhere from forty to sixty came bustling up to us. She was wearing a long dress that was covered in paisleys, and cat eyeglasses were perched on her sharp nose. She looked eccentric but kind, I thought, and her words cemented my impression.

“Well hello, my dear,” she said, offering her hand and smiling as we shook. “You must be the new witch that Cordelia sent over to carry on her work. I must say, I’m impressed that she’s still trying to break that curse, even from beyond the grave.”

“Actually, I’m not sure if I’m a witch or not,” I confessed. “I mean, everyone keeps saying I’m a witch, but I’ve never done any magic before.”

“Yes, she did—she can see Garrik. And she can touch him.” Bartleby gave me the side-eye again and I felt my cheeks getting hot.

“Hmm—you can see and touch spirits? That’s most unusual,” Goody Albright remarked. “We do have a kind of spiritual medium here in town, but she can only talk to the dead. As I understand it, Garrik Blackthorn is caught between this world and the next.”

“That’s what he says,” I said, nodding.

“Well, let’s go and have some tea on my back porch and talk about it,” she suggested.