I chuckle. "We mostly spar and eat snacks."
"Still sounds better than passive-aggressive power plays and thinly veiled threats."
Fair point.
"Not that we're recruiting—because we're not—but just for shits and giggles, who else has their eye on the door?"
"Clara is ready and waiting for me and a few others to decide before she officially defects. And Isobella will walk if the situation deteriorates further."
"Okay, good. So, we're still only talking about a handful of witches."
"Yeah, why is that good?"
"Because we're not ready to unionize and become a whole big thing. We're just trying to honor the basic tenets of the Goddess Mother. It's not a witch thing; it's a magical community thing. We've got a couple of shifters hanging out, and I won't turn away anyone from any magical community who wants a place wherethey can be accepted and use their strengths to fight the good fight."
Mica grins. "And that's exactly it! You're building something, Poppy. A team that actually trusts each other, fights together, and doesn't operate on fear and manipulation."
The weight of her words settles over me. I hadn't thought about what we were building beyond scrambling to survive.
"It's not perfect," I say carefully.
"Nobody's expecting perfection, but there's a difference between imperfect and toxic. And Laurel's leadership is toxic."
I don't disagree, but I also don't know if I'm ready to be the destruction of the Emberwood Coven. I grew up loving the coven. The members of the magical community were like members of a big, glorious family.
"If you leave, won't that make things worse for those who stay?"
"Maybe, but I'm not interested in martyrdom, and I'm definitely not interested in being the example Laurel uses to keep everyone else scared. Self-preservation isn't selfish when the ship is sinking."
The driveway winds upward like a snake's spine, all cracked asphalt and moss-choked edges. At the top sits the McAllison mansion—Victorian bones dressed in peeling paint and ivy that's gone from charming to creepy.
Asher hums the Ghostbusters theme under his breath as we approach, the chihuahua leashes wrapped around both wrists. "If there's something strange in Emberwood... Who you gonna call?"
"Poppy and the Life and Death Brigade," Rowan sings.
Asher snorts. "Dude, that didn't rhyme at all."
I chuckle. "That's okay. We're not even sure it's a ghost problem."
"Declan and the sheriff seemed pretty sure. They're really hoping you can take care of things before Lizzy spooks the townsfolk."
"We'll do our best, won't we, puppers?"
Somebuddy and Nobuddy hustle along, excited for their first mission, their little feet moving a mile a minute.
Orion's silver-blue eyes track the upper windows as we near the front porch. "I agree with Uncle Declan. This place feels all kinds of wrong."
I adjust my grip on the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. "Yeah, well, Lizzy McAllison died two months ago surrounded by twenty-seven dogs and zero people. Wrong is kind of the baseline."
Somebuddy yaps, her stubby little tail wagging.
Nobuddy sniffs the air and whines.
"Agreed, puppers," Asher says. "It's exciting for you to be back at your old house, I know. It’s probably a little sad, too, eh?"
The front door swings open before we reach the top step of the wraparound porch. A woman in a blazer-and-pearls combo strides out, the heels of her sensible pumps clicking against the weathered wood.
Her smile is real estate bright—practiced, glossy, and totally hollow.
