Page 4 of Moth to a Flame

It would arrive, and I would complete this spell, and I would be free.

Nothing would go wrong. Nothing would go wrong.

Tears streamed down my face, and I repeated it one more time, my own magic mantra.

Nothing would go wrong.

CHAPTER THREE

The Moth

The address glowed on my phone screen: 8813 Nightshade Lane. Last delivery of the night, thank fuck. My bones ached from ten hours on the bike, and my wings were screaming to unfurl. They were currently curled up under my leather jacket for safety on the open road, and I was over it.

I pulled up to the property and killed the engine, letting the sudden silence settle over me. Without its roar, I could hear the peaceful rustling of trees swaying behind the large, dark Victorian manor house before me. Like everything in Pumpkin Hollow, it was unnecessarily spooky, painted entirely black from the front stairs to the spires rising from the eastern tower.

We get it, you’re a witch.

I flipped open my phone, looking for the delivery instructions. Before I could check them, a new message popped up.

A picture of my youngest brother, Motthew, holding up a calculus test with a 95% score and giving the camera a proud thumbs-up.

I grinned, typing back.

Me:

Great job!

Three little dots bounced before his answer appeared.

Motthew:

Thanks, this one was a doozy.

Do you know where the vacuum is?

I ran my hand down my face. My youngest brother was a whiz in school, but he would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to his shoulders.

Me:

I don’t know. Why don’t you ask Mom?

Motthew:

She hasn’t been home in a few days.

My stomach dropped.

Me:

You have food?

Motthew:

Yeah, she always sets me up, but I made a huge mess snacking on her new recipe of pollen crackers and wanted to clean up. Hence the vacuum.

Me:

Left wall, closet under the stairs.