“I’m out of here,” I muttered and stormed toward the door, refusing to look back when Faith called out for me.
A week ago, I’d been a happy college student on summer break, and now my world had been turned upside down. But I couldn’t go back to when I had no knowledge or awareness of the magic bubbling under my skin.
Still . . . Icouldjust pretend that the last week had never happened and go on living my life. I could join the Sinclair Society, start working my way up a ladder at a marketing company, and live a happy life in New York. A life far, far away from trees and pollen and mosquitoes and witches.
I stomped down the path toward the parking lot, kicking up a cloud of dirt, but Mom’s car was already gone.
Shit.
I took out my phone but, of course, there was no service. I wondered if they had warded this place against cell signal because I’d had full bars before we’d turned off the highway.
Yeah, I was definitely getting murdered here.
I looked at the forest on either side of the clearing. The only sign at the edge of the parking lot pointed toward the two-lane state road.
Maple Hollow: 5 MILES
I’d scoped out the area on my maps app on the way here and remembered that the small town sat at the eastern edge of the wide lake. It was probably only a mile or two if I stuck to thewater instead of the road. Maybe by some miracle, cell service would come back to life on my way there. I’d seen plenty of TikToks and YouTube live streams of tourists walking through the Maple Hollow town square, still spooky well into summer. So at least I had some proof that there was a tower close by to assist me in my escape.
I glanced back and forth between the sign and the lake, my proverbial rock and hard place. I frowned down at my heeled boots. No, I could do this. I’d been a Girl Scout for a year in Maine. How hard could walking around a lake be?
Just as I took a tentative step onto the path, a large barn owl swooped down and perched on the rec center railing.
“I swear to god, if you start talking,” I warned the feathered creature, “I’m going to scream.”
It didn’t speak, but it nipped at the air as if it wanted to let me know I wasn’t welcome.
“I know, I know, I’m going.” I turned and started trudging toward the forest’s edge.
I held up my phone, centered the camera on myself, and applied a filter before I began recording. Something about filming the experience took the edge off, as if I could hide behind the lens. And if they found me dead or if I got lost in the swamp, they could watch itBlair Witch-style at my funeral.
Yep, that’s the spirit, Gwen.
“Well, guys, you’re never going to believe where I am today . . .”
6
Sabine
I’d named the log at the cliff lookout my secret spot, even though it acted as the secret spot for just about every witch who’d ever discovered it—which was the majority of the camp. It was clearly a popular hookup location, given the number of initials that had been carved into the wood beneath me.
From here, I could see Lake Nevermore stretching all the way to the swamp just outside Maple Hollow. My hometown was so close that I could feel the watchful eyes of all the townsfolk from my clifftop seat. Even here, in the middle of this beautiful forest, I could feel the pressure and expectations of witches past.
I blew out a long breath, knowing that if I didn’t return to camp soon, a sneaky owl would be sent out to find me. But before I had a chance to rise, my serenity was ruined by enough twig-snapping that I presumed it was a lumbering bear. I was about to cast a warding spell when I heard a string of muttered curses.
“All this fucking nature,” a voice rasped. “Why would anyonechooseto go hiking? If you enjoy hiking, tell me in the comments.”
Was this invisible voice . . . vlogging?
I finally spied her just downhill from me, a lost camper who was bumbling her way through the thorny underbrush. Meanwhile, the actual path was only three feet to her left, if she just bothered to look uphill.
“This whole place is the freakiest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said while holding her phone at an angle. “Seriously, you wouldn’t even believe me if I tried to describe it to you.”
My brows pinched in confusion. She sounded like a human, but the camp was spelled to permit only witches within its borders. Even the local Maple Hollow ghosts couldn’t get in without an invite. So she had to be a witch. A very confused, disoriented witch.
Despite her bewilderment, she was beautiful with her midnight hair cut in a French bob, dark eyes, dramatic winged liner, and bloodred lipstick. She was tall and lithe—probably five ten, at least—with a willowy build that would’ve made me guess she was a dancer, if not for her terrible posture and her inability to navigate around a fallen log without tumbling face-first into a pile of leaves. Her attire was incredibly inappropriate for the great outdoors—skintight black leather pants, a crop top, and chunky heels.
Heels! In the forest!
