Agatha’s cowardly but sweet mouse familiar, Thimble, scurries into the front pocket of her apron. My sister practically snarls at Hexate, knowing she won’t attack unless I tell her to.
I can’t bring myself to do it.
“Surprising, I know,” she snaps irritably. “There is actually a letter for you.”
Finally meeting her eye, I take in her beautiful features. The same as all the Green Witches in our family—dark brown hair with golden highlights from the sun pulled back in a triangle-folded kerchief, freckled skin that’s always a little pink from sun exposure, and her bright mossy green eyes that are a dead giveaway to her powers.
As soon as I grab the letter, she soothes thimble and leaves the room.
Trying my best to ignore her, I’m suddenly focused on the crinkled envelope in my hand.
The handwriting is messy—hurried and unfamiliar.
My name, Renata Blackthorn, is barely legible but there’s no mistaking that it’s for me. The return address is what confuses me.
Edmond Finkle, located in Briarhollow—a nearly forgotten town about five hours away by car.
The distance to Briarhollow isn’t the unsettling part of the letter’s origins.
My family’s history is murky when it comes to Briarhollow and the Dreaming Willow Inn the Blackthorns once owned. It’s impossible to find any information about the town, even online. The only source that comes up is an outdated website for the town library. Otherwise, it’s as if Briarhollow has truly been forgotten or glamoured with a very strong protection spell.
There’s no denying that just seeing the town name in his quick script sparks something in me I haven’t felt since I met Hexate.
It’s that visceral tell-tale sign of a witch’s magiccoming to life.
A soft hum warms my blood as my heart starts to race from a surge of adrenaline. Even the static in the air feels different, like a million little pushes from the spirits lurking in purgatory. To anyone other than a witch with spirit magic, that probably sounds terrifying. To us, having the spirits on your side is the only confirmation you need to know you’re on the right path.
At least that’s what I’ve picked up on from the few books in Hemlocke’s library on the matter.
Grabbing the butter knife off the counter, I quickly cut open the top and practically rip the contents out. A rusted skeleton key lands on the counter with a clatter. It’s an interesting design with twin roses at the bow, leading down to a skull at the end of the blade. I stare at it for a moment, admiring the details. When the letter blows off the counter from the wind through the open window, I turn my attention to the other contents.
As I open it and lay the pages in front of me, I skim the contents and gasp.
It’s a letter from my estranged, great-aunt Cordelia and the deeds to the Dreaming Willow Inn.
I’ve never met Cordelia but there were harsh warnings and sordid stories about her… And her magic that drove her to madness.
She’s my grandmother’s younger sister, and the only living relative I have who is also a Gray witch. Who felt the same disdain from her sister I feel from my own.
According to my mother, she became too consumed by her powers and the connection we have to those who have passed. Something directed her back to the Dreaming Willow Inn, where she went mad.
Setting the large legal agreement on top of the key for now, I focus on the written words of my kindred.
My dearest Renata,
I’ve dreamed about meeting you since the wind whispered to me after your birth. If you’re reading this letter, I’m sorry we will never have the chance to formally do so. At least not until you join the rest of us in the after-life—though I hope that is not for a long time.
We do not come from a family that values our gifts—and you must know, dear, that ourpowers are a gift.
However, that has not always been the way of the Blackthorn line. In other parts of the world, we are coveted. I hope you have not been brainwashed to believe that our magic is a stain on the magical community. Yet I also hope you are not drawn to the fickle fame of humans or to magical cities with far more tolerance than Hemlocke will ever have.
In another life, I would be wishing for all your dreams and goals to come true, wherever they may be… but in the one we have been granted, I am begging you to come to the Dreaming Willow Inn and break the curse. There’s much to be unraveled in the mystery of our family’s history, but I am certain of one thing.
You, my unfortunate girl, are the only one who can save our family’s reputation and the town of Briarhollow.
Edmond can answer many of the questions you may have. Please find him in Briarhollow. You must hurry—do not push this off longer than needed.
Forever with you,
