Page 17 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

“The universe,” Celeste said simply.

Roy mouthed oh for fuck’s sake.

“It’s a disruptive placement,” Celestine continued. “Old structures are getting rattled. Things hidden in plain sight will suddenly become visible. People will be revealed for who they truly are.”

Augustine swallowed. “That’s very poetic.”

“It’s also very inconvenient,” Celestine replied. “We don’t want to be revealed for who we truly are, Ags. Not to anyone.”

Silence settled between them again, thicker this time.

“I didn’t like the chart I read,” Celeste finally finished. “I didn’t like it at all. Normally when things worry me, the stars offer reassurance. This time they didn’t.”

“So,” Augustine said carefully, “you’re saying my weird customer turning up asking me to chat with the dead is . . . what? Some form of cosmic admin?”

“I’m saying,” Celestine said, choosing her words with maddening care, “that this customer of yours might not be random. And if someone’s asking for you specifically—”

“I don’t do anything,” Augustine cut in. “I’ve never done anything. You know that.”

“I know what you think you don’t do,” Celeste replied gently. “But you’re still one of us. Still witch born. Ags,” Celestine said, softer now, “just be careful. Please. If he comes back, don’t brush it off. Don’t joke it away. And don’t assume you’re irrelevant just because you’ve always felt like you were.”

Augustine looked down at Bird, who had begun purring like this was all perfectly normal. “Great,” she said. “The stars are conspiring, my sisters are worried, and now Uranus is involved.”

“Unfortunately,” Celestine said. “I just want you to be safe, Ags. I want us all to be safe.”

Augustine sighed. “I know.”

She did know. That was the irritating part. For all the cosmic dramatics and well-meaning panic, her sisters had always orbited one another with care. Even when they annoyed her. Even when they were wrong. Even when they were — annoyingly, often smugly — right.

“I just don’t want you to dismiss this,” Celestine went on. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I promise,” Augustine said, because it cost her nothing to say, but meant everything to her sister to hear. She took a deep breath. “It’s times like this I wish Mum were here. She’d know what to do.”

Celestine sighed. “Yeah. I wish she was here, too. But she’s not. They got her.”

Augustine felt her stomach twist. “We don’t know that. Not for certain.”

“There’s no other explanation that makes any sense.” Celestine’s voice was firm now. “I mean, one Halloween, Mum just ups and leaves? Says she’ll be back soon but never is? No. Mum wouldn’t leave us. Not like that. Besides, Mum was the highest-ranking witch in the country at the time. The witch hunters had been searching for her for years. Just like they’ll be looking for us now.”

Augustine opened her mouth to reply, but she closed it again slowly, the words stalling somewhere behind her teeth.

Because Celestine was right. Mum hadn’t just left, and Augustine knew that better than anyone. She’d been the last one to see her. The last one to hear her voice. The last person Mum had spoken to before she walked out the door, promising she’d be back soon. That memory had lived beneath Augustine’s skin ever since.

It’s your fault it happened, too, a whispered voice said in her head.

“I . . .” Augustine swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Not maybe. We’re not so careful all the time because of ’maybe’. We don’t hardly see one another because of ‘maybe’. So, please keep being careful, okay?”

“Okay.”

Celestine exhaled deeply, before she cleared her throat, the tension easing just a fraction. “So,” she said, more brightly now. “Any other news?”

“No.”

“No?” Celestine sounded sceptical. “Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”