“What?” I ask, turning to look at her.
“Yeah, it must be,” she says more confidently. “After Lorna mentioned seeing a man and woman walking into the library, I asked my grandfather about it.”
A man and woman.
Meaning he’s here with someone.
I swallow down the bitter taste and try to focus on what else Rowyn says.
“He was vague about it. He said they arrived a couple weeks ago and need time to acclimate to the town. But he’s encouraged them to venture out, meet other witches their age.”
She gives me a significant look, likeweare the witches her grandfather wants them to meet.
“Why would he push his new employees toward us?”
With a deprecating smirk, Rowyn shakes her head and shrugs.
Wryly, Clover glances up and bites her lip, like she’s physically holding herself back from talking.
I’m about to ask what it is when she blurts out, “At least he’s hot, right?”
“What?” I ask, not sure I heard her correctly.
“Oh,” Esme laughs out and grabs her arm. “I was thinking thesamething. It would be so unfortunate if you spent the past eleven years dreaming about a man who was ugly.”
“I did consider that more than once,” I admit. Rowyn’s smiling like the cat that caught the canary. Pointing at the photo still in Clementine’s hands, I add, “We can all rest assured knowing he’s not ugly.”
Esme and Clover both let out a cheer, making all of us laugh.
“I bet he drives a motorcycle,” Rowyn eggs them on with a teasing smirk.
“Why?” I ask dryly. “Because he wears a leather jacket?”
Esme leans forward with raised eyebrows, growing more interested in this conversation.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about. You want me to whip up a little love potion for this bad boy?” she asks.
Clementine looks at her, impressed and intrigued.
Pointing a finger at the Love Witch, I remind her, “You shouldn’t administer those without both parties’ consent.”
She rolls her eyes. “Thanks, Mother, I know that. I’d make an exception for fated doppelgängers, though.”
My stomach drops at the reminder. “I’m not sure it’s a good thing.” At their confusion, I add, “She was married to Nestor, remember? The night I hallucinated him destroying my room was when I got to the first mention of Barrett. I think there was some kind of betrayal between them.”
Rowyn flips through the journal again. Skimming the page, she passes it around the circle. “Doesn’t sound like it was only his.”
Biting my lip, I think about that as the other women read the passage.
“It would make sense that the town always believed Barrett killed his best friend and wife because he was in love with her. I didn’t want to believe it would be something so petty…” I shake my head and trail off, not able to understand my spiraling thoughts.
Witches are vengeful. Even someone as kind as Clover would hold a grudge against anyone who spited her or her coven. It’s not a character flaw as much as it is a natural instinct.
The way our magic manifests mirrors that.
Curses don’t require any sort of offering or ritual, only intention. Pure, unadulterated intentions.
Even for a Gray Witch, whose magic naturally aligns with hexes and curses, the practice is unpredictable. It often comes with a price that thecaster isn’t aware of at the moment, one that could take a hundred years to come to fruition.
