Crossing my arms and leaning back, I retort, “I’m pretty sure you’re the one from around here. Maybe you can answer that question.”
Letting out a breath, her shoulders drop and she shakes her head. “I wish I could, but I don’t know anything useful. My gran didn’t have much information either, besides what Cordelia offered.”
“You know,” I muse thoughtfully, “I’ve tried to research Briarhollow before. There’snoinformation about the town—other than the library. It’s not even on most maps.”
She sighs. “People don’t really come looking for Briarhollow. They usually stumble upon it. Many visitors don’t stay, and most locals never leave.”
Sitting forward, I lean my arms on the dusty table. “Why not?”
“No one is certain,” she says helplessly. “I assume there are some protection and glamour spells in place. It’s not like anything is stopping us from coming or going. Time moves and years pass, but there’s always this… disconnect from the rest of the world.”
Now it’s my turn to hum in acknowledgement. “Has it always been like this?”
“No, Briarhollow used to be one of the most progressive and thriving magical communities—home to witches, werewolves, vampires and humans. Even mermaids, since we’re so close to the ocean. But when… you know…” She trails off, giving me a rueful look.
“When the curse took over,” I finish for her. “Something changed?”
“Everythingchanged, according to the town’s Elders.”
My stomach instantly sours. “You want out of your family’s coven bad enough to tie yourself to a cursed inn?” I ask in disbelief.
That winning smile back in place, she nods. “Yeah, I really do.”
We both break out into a fit of laughter. Mine—a raspy snicker that feels unused but so freeing—contrasts her soft, melodic giggle.
A sound I think I could get used to.
Chapter 9
Renata
Two days have passed since Rowyn showed up. When she said everything was in her car, she meant it.
The trunk is charmed to expand four times its size, but it’s still impressive how much stuff she was able to stuff in the compartment.
Without a second thought, she brought in all of her clothes, personal items, and valuables. There were also a few pieces of furniture, like a rocking chair her grandfather made, and a floor-length mirror set in a gorgeous, hand-carved wooden frame.
The most striking items were the last two. One was a beautiful quilt hand -stitched with an intricate design. There are a pack of wolves howling at the full moon with a large bonfire alit behind them.
The other item was a large iron cauldron—the one that now sits upon the inn’s hearth, and is used to cook meals for the residents of the house, permanent or visiting.
Its presence is a grand declaration of permanency.
Unfortunately, the main hearth in the kitchen won’t spark for Rowyn either. Just like me, she was able to light the other fireplaces in every other room. Unlike me, she was able to charm them to turn on when someone enters a room, and then off when the room is empty.
We spent the afternoon cleaning it up and made a quick dinner with the groceries she brought. She came prepared. I was thankful, considering how impulsively I left, and how little I brought.
Rowyn kept apologizing for not being able to help more. It’s much more than I could have done. She later admitted that she isn’t the strongest Hearth Witch, but I’m not sure where that belief came from. There’s an essence of power that radiates from her with every move she makes. Our auras aren’t always the best indicators of our magical strengths—and many powerful beings tamper it to avoid attention. I didn’t pry into her life further, knowing I wouldn’t appreciate that practice. I’m still not convinced.
The main den was not in nearly as good of shape. We spent all of yesterday cleaning the large space, but it probably needs more work than I anticipated. A lot of new furniture will need to be ordered but Rowyn assured me the family who owns the custom furniture shop are masters at their craft. Textiles are easy enough to come by, so Rowyn and I can fix most of the couches and curtains.
I have no idea how we’re going to get the money for any of that.
Poppy stays close, but out of the way. Since Rowyn opened the window for her, I’ve made sure to keep doors and windows open for her in hopes that she may come inside. There aren’t any guides about what to do with a familiar after their bonded witch passes away, but I would hope someone would open a door for Hexate after I’m gone, even if she never decides to use it.
Rowyn has no idea what happened to the soil either. Her gran, Sylvie, and Cordelia spent a few years trying to figure it out to no avail.
The inside seems to be deteriorating from natural causes and neglect. Like I suspected, it’s worse on the upper levels, but appears to be repairable—if we had the money.
