Page 127 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

“I said no.”

Augustine was up to her arm in candle wax, with not one but two sisters at her side. Maddy was by her left, calmly sniffing the scented oils, while Celestine was on her right, a stirring stick in one hand and an astral chart in the other.

“Come on,” Maddy whined. “You went two years ago.”

“I know. And look what good it did me,” Augustine replied sharply. “I met the love of my life, lost him, gained him back, and then lost him again. I have car keys I’ve misplaced fewer times than that.”

Celestine stifled a smile, but Maddy rolled her eyes. “That’s not a reason,” Maddy argued. “That’s a dramatic monologue.”

“It’s a summary,” Augustine corrected, not looking up as she poured the wax with careful precision. “A very accurate one.”

“Mmm,” Celestine hummed absently, glancing between her chart and the candle mould like she was cross-referencing fate with fragrance. “Mercury’s not even in retrograde tonight. You can’t blame the universe for bad decisions.”

“I’m not blaming the universe,” Augustine said. “I’m blaming myself. That’s entirely different.”

Maddy groaned. “Ags, it’s been a year.”

Augustine paused, just for a second.

A year.

It certainly didn’t feel like it, because everything had changed so much in the past twelve months.

She’d started making her own candles, for one. Properly making them, not just stocking other people’s work and pretending it counted. Blending scents herself, experimenting late into the night until the shop smelled like something entirely her own. She liked that.

They’d taken off faster than she’d expected them to. Faster than she’d been ready for, if she was honest with herself. So much so that she’d had to hire help. She had two assistants now, both overly enthusiastic, deeply confused by her filing system, and far too keen on feeding Bird.

He’d gained half a pound.

Her mouth twitched slightly as she poured another candle.

The Roy had become an unexpected bestseller — a peculiar blend of old paper and cigar smoke, warm and nostalgic in a way that made people smile. The Clayton followed close behind, all sea air and salt with something soft beneath it.

But neither of them touched Cinnamon Dreams. Of course they didn’t. As if anything ever could.

Augustine swallowed lightly, pushing the thought aside.

She was reading the cards again, too. That was new, or was it old? She could never quite decide. Not that it mattered. It was a gift, and that was the important thing.

At first, it felt like stepping into someone else’s life, with her grandmother’s voice echoing faintly in her memory, guiding her hands, reminding her what to look for. Still, the more she practised, the more it felt like her own. Like something she’d been holding at arm’s length for far too long was now snug in her warm embrace. Although reading the cards came with spirits, and—

Well. They had certainly taken some getting used to.

Not that she feared them. It wasn’t that. They came and went, sometimes mere quiet presences, sometimes louder. Some needed help. Some were just passing through. Some just wanted someone to talk to.

Just like Roy. Just like Mrs C.

Augustine’s throat tightened when she thought of them, but only briefly. She couldn’t help it; she missed them. But then she would always miss them, she realized, just like she still missed her mother.

It had taken time, but she’d forgiven herself fully for that. For a long time, Augustine had carried her guilt about that final reading deep within her. She’d always thought that if she’d just read that card differently, just seen it properly, everything might have changed. Her mother would still be here, and she and her sisters wouldn’t be living in this state of perpetual half-fear.

Now she knew better, because sometimes you made mistakes, and sometimes, even if you hadn’t, things would have happened exactly the same way anyway.

Augustine realized now that whatever she’d said that night, her mother still would have gone. It could have been The High Priestess or The Fool. It could have been the Three of Wands or King of Cups. Upright or reversed. It didn’t matter. She would have gone.

“Augustine,” Maddy suddenly said, waving a hand in front of her face. “You’ve gone all mysterious and distant.”

Augustine blinked. “Sorry. Just thinking.”