“Stop! Put her down, witch!” The man yells at her as we rise higher. My heart races wildly, and my limbs flail with the lack of stability. It’s been a long time since I’ve practiced magic—and doing it in public is forbidden. We soar through the air, descending only once we’ve cleared the trees.
“I know what you need, Bethy.” My sister pulls me close once our feet are settled on the ground. She’s jubilant, high on adrenaline, like we didn’t almost just get caught.
I hesitate. This is the exact thing Josephine was afraid of—the one thing we promised we’d never do after escaping in the middle of the night.
Exposure equals certain death.
“Take this, Bethy.” She shoves a series of parchment papers into my hand. They’re scribbled with words and empty boxes.“Find your fate, sister.”
Irina steps away, releasing me as she heads deeper into the trees.
“Wait! What is this?”
“Everything you’ve been seeking—trust me.”
“Why are you leaving? When will I see you again?” Tears trace paths down my cheeks. I was so angry with her, but now that she’s walking away, I’m gutted.
“You know I must go now… your future depends on it. I’ll return when it’s safe… when there’s no soul left to bear witness.” A single tear and a halfhearted smile appear on her face, and then she’s gone.
“I see that look. She’s fine, Beth. This is what you were meant to do… it’s what you wanted. Don’t waste the effort she went to,” Jo grits out between clenched teeth. “Take this ale to the table over there and smile.”
I set down the bucket, exchanging it for the metal pitcher my sister placed on the bar top. While I know the puzzle Irina gave me six moons ago led me here, I can’t help feeling that Jo holds resentment in her heart, and why wouldn’t she?Myfate was found in clues, but it came at a cost—Irina.
I carry that guilt, the knowledge that while Jo and I get to hide in plain sight, our sister is forced to live in the shadows. Sometimes the grief feels like walking carefully across coals, never knowing which step will bring a mild tinge and which will feel like a thousand hornet stings that ache so deep you can feel them in your soul.
Approaching the table, the group of gentlemen continue in their deep conversation. “More ale?” I ask, awaiting any form of response.
One of them raises his cup, and I carefully top it off. Another follows suit, and so on it goes, a never-ending cycle.
This is what I wanted—to live amongst the locals, to see them, to know them, to be them. I hope one day it pays off, that one day I’m able to help someone else play my sister’s game.
one
Sadie
Unexpected Gifts
There’s a defining moment in every person’s life, one where the path you thought you had charted out changes in an instant. And with that change, you either learn to adapt, or you get swallowed whole by life itself. For me, Sadie Marie Wells, that moment started three days ago when my boss witnessed me having a full-blown panic attack brought on by none other than my own delusions of grandeur. It was in that moment, with clammy hands, sweat-soaked hair, and rapid yet shockingly hard-to-come-by breaths, that he looked me dead in the eyes—with pity on his face—and told me to leave.
"Sadie, I know this feels like the last thing on earth you want to do right now… but for both our sakes, you’re taking a leave of absence."
Gravel crunches under my tires as I park between a row of arborvitae and a peeling white picket fence that’s almost invisible with the bushes spilling over it. I squeeze my eyes shut and take three deep breaths.
It was like he thought the whole thing was so obvious—the workaholic hit a wall, and he was doing me a solid by forcing me out. Or maybe this was just the easiest way for him to avoid an HR shitstorm. He’s the most beloved coach in the NHL, and it probably wouldn’t look great to have his biggest charitable program run by a ball of stress on two legs that can’t keep her shit together—even if I’m the one that keeps things interesting.
Squeals and laughter erupt from the direction of my mother’s backyard, drifting in through my half-lowered window while silencing my reflection. My sister must be over.
I guess I can’t wait here forever.
I push out of my car, heaving two overstuffed suitcases out of the trunk and dragging them with me to the sidewalk. Stopping, I take in the familiar sight of my hometown. It’s been a while since I’ve visited. I’d almost forgotten how much I appreciate its whimsical nature. Limelight hydrangeas line the street, lavender sprouts cheerily from the bases of mailboxes, the scent of freshly cut grass wafts in the sticky breeze, and gardens spill over the edges of their cedar walls. It’s picturesque, homey, welcoming to all—like Martha Stewart herself became a fairy godmother and bibidi bopped a splash of pastels onto the historically witchy town.
"Sadie? What are you doing here?"
My sister, Mallory, floats through the screen door and down the front steps of my mom’s small, sage-green cottage. It looks exactly as I remember, just a little worse for wear. Years of snow-piled winters have finally taken their toll. The painted cedar siding has peeled, and the wooden porch has splinters in places.
"Surprise." I hold my arms out and force my lips into a smile so fake I’m sure she can see right through it. I’m happy to be home, but I wish it was under different circumstances.
In typical Mal fashion, she skips down the stone pathway and wraps her arms around me. I lean into her embrace and tamp down the urge to immediately spill everything that’s happened over the past week. It’s been too long since my family has come to visit me in the city, too long since we’ve had a wine night filled with gossip and what my mother likes to call,twinkle moments—her version of taking a metaphorical photo. I want to catch up before dumping bad news on them.
