Petra and Isadora
Dreaming Willow Inn, June 19, 1921
“There aren’t any names written on the other picture,” I blurt.
Reaching for a small pile, she hums in confirmation. “Maybe there’s a photo of the other men in here.”
I’m not sure how we’d know if we’re looking at the man with the obscured face, but I am quickly distracted as I flip through the photos of our ancestors.
Even with the charm, it’s clear these photos are antiques. The one of Petra and Isadora is only a few years older than the one of Petra and the two men.
Before Rowyn and I can get further into the memories, a knock nearly startles us out of our skin. Simultaneously, our heads turn toward each other. She shrugs lightly so I stand and walk to the door, with Rowyn and our familiars protectively behind me.
Chapter 10
Renata
Knowing there are others who care about mine and Hexate’s well-being gives me the courage I need to throw the door open.
I’m as surprised as I was when I found a wide-eyed, smiling Rowyn at the gate. I’ve been expecting others to show up since Rowyn heard “the call.” I just wish I had a better idea of what exactly I was asking for when I performed the spell.
My quick trust for these women may bite me in the foot eventually, but my magic has never hurt me before. It’s hard to imagine it is now when I take in the two girls on my front porch.
Well, one is a girl—probably around fourteen—but the other is a woman, a few years younger than Rowyn and me, if I had to guess.
The older one, who has black braids with gold beads and tawny skin, awkwardly stretches a hand between us and wraps the other around the younger girl. They look similar, clearly sisters. The girl has soft orange extensions mixed into her braids rather than beads.
“Hi,” the older sister says, “I’m Clover. And this is my sister, Clementine.”
A small tug pulls at my lips. Without having to ask, their names alone tell one thing about them: Green Witches. They often go for the cutesy, nature-inspired themes.
Taking her hand in mine, I offer a firm shake before stretching my arm in Clementine’s direction. She looks surprised by my attention, but shrugs out of her sister’s hold and takes my hand with a smile. It grows wider when Rowyn does the same after greeting Clover.
“I’m Renata, the—er, owner of the inn.” I gesture at the building behind me, not sure where these two are from. “And this is Rowyn. She’s from town.”
“Let me guess,” Rowyn cuts in, “You’re here about the coven?”
There’s a lilt to her voice when she gives me a sly, meaningful glance, before turning her winning hostess smile on them.
“We are,” Clover confirms with a resolute nod.
Hearth Witches are warm like a cozy fireplace and mug of hot chocolate.
Green Witches are pure sunshine reincarnated. It’s a common joke that they spend so much time in the sun that they absorb their personalities from it.
That wasn’t the experience in my family. My mother and sisters scorch like a mid-summer sunburn. Clover and Clementine bring the sweet stereotype to life.
“Are the spots for a Green Witch taken?” Clementine asks cautiously.
“No,” I answer quickly with a shake of my head. “There’s plenty of room for any witch in need of a home—and a coven.”
The last word is hard to choke out, but I use the most normal voice I can muster. It’s still surreal that I have a coven, even if it’s only been Rowyn and I until now. From the sad smiles gracing their faces, it must be exactly what they’re in need of, too.
Something settles in my gut, sparking hope that maybe I could restore the inn if I have help. I didn’t want to let Rowyn down by telling her I was thinking about selling, not when she was so open about the connection her grandmother and ancestors had to the inn. Even with her fire magic, the two of us couldn’t pull this off on our own.
But now…
With two Green Witches and a Hearth Witch, maybe we could make something of this place. Turn it into a home again, for us and others in need. A place for any future Blackthorn witches with spirit magicto run away to.
