Chapter 1
Cobbin Lake
Grace
I drive up to the lake house, down Lake Road, side-eyeing the million-dollar homes before my parents’ rental spreads out on shore to my right. I’ve been inside two of these homes against my will.
One is my parents’ place during the off season, which I’m headed for now, and the other our neighbor’s further down the road, where my childhood best friend and once boyfriend, Zack, used to live. He’s long since left his parents’ nest and freed himself from our hometown. Cobbin Lake is the kind of town where the rich liked to vacation but didn’t want to live.
Though spring and summer are lovely, it becomes a frigid, icy landscape during the winter. The breeze off the water is enough to make even the most strong-willed flee. No one cares for the lake life during the cold season. Half the year Cobbin Lake is all but a ghost town, and that’s as literal as it is figurative.
Because Cobbin Lake is chock full of witches—those rich, those powerful, and those who are both. There’s a unique community here unlike anywhere else in the States. I should know. I’m a part of it. Sort of.
Zack met someone and moved away. Last I heard he was married and living somewhere in Colorado. I don’t keep up with my ex; I just get random updates from the few awkward, awful times I run into his parents.
Pulling into my own parents’ lake house’s driveway, I catch glimpses of the water up ahead through the trees. It’s my favorite thing about this place. It’s the only thing I like about this place at all.
The water.
Beautiful and majestic, no matter the weather, the view over the lake from the lake house’s upper deck is breathtaking. Morning, noon, or night, the lake is a beacon of peace. The water, especially during a storm, plays like music in my ears. I’ve always felt a pull to it. It’s powerful, even as a lake.
Too bad my need for independence and space overrides my need for calming, reminiscent nostalgia of better times and pretty views.
Parking along the side of the house where my dad keeps his pontoon stored, I climb out of my sedan, an old dark blue car I bought after saving all my Christmas, birthday, and job money for years. My parents expect me to work for what I have, like they did when they were young—and still do—and I’m eternally thankful for that because my independence is the only thing that keeps me from bedrotting with fantasy books most days.
I glance once more at the lake, excited that it’s calm enough I might be able to see to the bottom. I love it when the water is clear and the pebbles and little silver fish appear. Sometimes I get lucky and spot a big one, like a bass.
My gaze drifts back to my parents’ house. The large white and black structure has both an upper and lower deck in the back, wraparound walkways, and several picturesque porches detailed by roses and climbing honeysuckles. The smell of the flowers fills my nose, flooding my senses with the nostalgia and angst I’m trying to avoid. Just being here brings the memories too close to the surface.
I stomp to the front door as I yank out my spare lake house keys and cellphone.
I’m here unwillingly, even if the water is gorgeous, and as for Zack’s parents’ house… The faster I can get away from it, the better.
Calling my mom with one hand, I type in the front door code. The box shielding the doorknob pulls to the side. I slip in my key just as the dial sound begins. It rings five times before she answers.
“I just got here,” I say before she has a chance to tell mehello.
“Oh good! Thank you so much for doing this. Like I said, there shouldn’t be much to clean up and no one’s arriving until tomorrow afternoon, but I just can’t get out there with your dad fussing the way he is. He wants me here until he’s back from work or until his package arrives. I’m looking out the window. I hope it’s any moment now…”
Mom is a talker. She told me once she developed the habit while I was a baby, filling the space with her voice constantly so it wasn’t always so quiet. Now she hates silence unless she’s completely alone. It makes her uncomfortable.
I walk into the foyer and glance around, discovering everything tidy and untouched. “It’s fine. I need the extra money anyways.”
“I really appreciate it, Gracie. I’ll be there soon. But, dear?—”
“Mom, really, it’s fine.” I set my bag down on the glass table to my left, right beside a large crystal vase filled with largegolden fake flowers. “I just got inside, and it appears fine so far. If there’s not much to do, you won’t even need to come over.” I walk past the large staircase leading up to the second floor. Being able to see straight through the majority of the first floor and out to the water, I only have to check the kitchen at the back right of the house, opposite the staircase. “The air smells like they lit incense or one of the candles, but besides some dishes—” I pull open the drawer hiding the trash receptacle “—and some trash—” a lot of trash, in fact, the container completely full of liquor bottles and black plastic “—the whole first floor looks like it’ll take me thirty, forty-five minutes tops.”
“That’s good news. I love tidy renters. But I really have one more thing to say…”
“What?” I ask after she trails off.
“The renters may have been part of the Cyane Coven. But also… Like I said earlier, they only had the place for a night. They wouldn’t have had time to do more than one ritual.”
I don’t really care who rented because I really do need the money. I hate it, in fact, taking these small extra jobs my parents give me, but I’m saving for a downpayment on a house. The sooner I can buy my own place, the sooner I’ll feel like I’ve accomplished something, since my degree hasn’t done anything for me. I haven’t been very successful so far in my life, and that hasn’t been for lack of trying. Yeah, I have a job as an event manager at Cobbin Lake Resort, but it’s not fulfilling, and the majority of the people I work with are vapid.
But renters from the Cyane Coven? Witches that draw their powers from fresh, natural waters? I’m surprised I don’t already smell the reek of moist dirt everywhere.
“Great. Thanks for the surprise. At least now I know why you offered me so much to get here as quickly as possible,” I say, half-teasing, half-chiding. “Look, I’m going to start stripping the beds. I’ll text you in a few with an update.” If there is occultparaphernalia lying around upstairs, I want to get it cleaned up and out of here as soon as possible. If any magic was called forth, traces may have lingered. It wouldn’t be good for the next renters, especially if they’re normal people, to find said items amongst the natural decor and accidentally get cursed or something.
