1
Gwen
If you’d asked me before my twentieth birthday if I believed in magic, I would’ve said absolutely not. But there I was, staring at my ex-boyfriend . . . whom I’d just turned into a toad.
I let out a disgusted scream as Brayden licked his eyeball.
“Gwen?” Mom called from the living room. “You okay, honey?”
“Uhhh, I’m fine! Don’t come in here!” I screeched in a way that only made my mom’s footsteps quicken. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
I stared at the brownish-green toad on the kitchen floor.
My first thought was to start live-streaming the incident just in case my ex magically re-Brayden-fied before our very eyes. After all, I was studying social media marketing, and this was one hell of a viral moment . . . not that anyone would believe me. And then I wondered if turning one’s ex into a toad was acriminal offense and decided to put my phone away, lest it be used as evidence.
I opened the window to the fire escape and peered down into the alley below. Would anyone notice if I flung him outside? Stranger things happened in our New York City neighborhood every day.
Car horns blared outside as a taxi rear-ended the vehicle in front of it. A thick Brooklyn accent shouted profanities that echoed up to our two-bedroom apartment. Normally, the hubbub instantly quelled my nerves, but toad magic was above even New York City’s pay grade.
Of all the nineteen cities I’d lived in during my twenty years of life, New York was my favorite. Something about the constant hustle, the raw humanity, and the excitement and absurdity of it were comforting to me. I liked being anonymous, a small fish in a giant pond.
And speaking of ponds . . .
I looked down at the amphibian—who seemed more confused than terrified—and knew what I had to do: get rid of the evidence.
Inching closer, I cupped my hands around his plump body and lifted him off the floor. His cold, bumpy skin sent a chill up my arm. But before I could fling Brayden out of the window, Mom stalked in and shrieked.
“Mom, I-I don’t know what happened,” I said, my words coming out in a violent, panicked flurry. “One second, I was shouting at him for drunk-sexting Sophie, and the next . . .” I held him up for Mom to see, and Toad Brayden gave a confirmingcroak.
Mom looked between the toad and me. “Sothatis Brayden?”
“Yes.” I panted as if I’d just been running full tilt. “I know it sounds crazy, but one second, he was here, and the next poof! Toad!”
Mom’s cheeks flushed as her brow furrowed. Speaking slowly, as if her mind were catching up, she said, “You turned Brayden into a toad?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Dammit.” Mom groaned, stamping her foot in indignation. She pinched the bridge of her nose, seemingly no longer shocked but rather peeved. “I was afraid this would happen.”
“Huh? What do you mean you were afraid this would happen?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “It was already a possibility in your mind that Imightturn someone into a toad?”
Mom grimaced at me in the way she always did when she’d been caught telling white lies to protect me. But this time, it wasfarmore than a white lie.
She threw her hands up defensively before I even had a chance to speak again. “You showed no signs of magic! I thought we’d made it out of the woods when you turned eighteen and still nothing.”
“What?!”
“Oh goddess, okay, uh . . .” Mom started pacing back and forth. “Where do I begin?”
“How about you start by telling me how to fix this?”
Brayden gave another long croak as if he, too, were hoping she’d have a solution.
Mom took a deep breath as if it would calm the both of us. “Okay, so . . . I’m a witch, and you’re my daughter, and magic runs through the women in our family.”
“What!”
Mom cringed. “I know, I know.” She waved her hands like windshield wipers. “Remember that cute little town that we used to get postcards from when you were young? Maple Hollow? Well, it’s more than a spooky gimmick. That’s where my coven lives?—”
