Chapter 24
“So how are things going with Wells?”
FaceTime was such a cursed invention, Gwyn decided as she looked at Vivi’s happy, glowing face on her laptop, propped on the counter at Something Wicked.
Why couldn’t people just talk on the phone? Why did they have to see each other?
Over the phone, no one could see that you weren’t wearing makeup, or that you were still in your pajamas at noon. No one could see that your brief experiment with bangs had ended in tragedy.
And no one could see you blush.
Vivi frowned now, leaning in close. “You look guilty. Please tell me you haven’t blown up his store. Or turned him into some kind of amphibian.”
“I haven’t!” Gwyn insisted. “Promise!”
I just rode his face in the back of my pickup truck at your favorite overlook, that’s all, and it was the best sexual experience of my life, and I have no idea how to deal with any of that, so maybe I should turn him into an amphibian because at least then I could be sure I’d never do that again, except the thing is, I really, really want to do that again.
For a second, Gwyn imagined actually saying all that to Vivi, but since she really liked Vivi’s head as it was as opposed to all exploded, she decided just to add, “We actually hung out yesterday and were perfectly civil.”
Not exactly a lie.
Last night had definitely been . . . friendly.
Vivi was clearly unconvinced, but she let it go, glancing back over her shoulder. She was in some kind of lovely stone cottage, and while Gwyn couldn’t see Rhys, she could hear him cheerfully humming in the background, which probably meant he was cooking. She’d been around him long enough to pick up on that habit.
“Go on,” she said to Vivi now. “Go see what annoyingly amazing thing your husband is making you for dinner, and sleep well knowing that me and Wells are not at each other’s throat.”
Vivi looked back at her, tucking her hair behind one ear. “You’re sure everything is fine there? I know the Graves Glen Gathering is just a few days away, and then it’s Fall Festival, and we won’t be back for that, either, but—”
“All is well in the town of Graves Glen,” Gwyn told her, another technical truth. She knew she should tell Vivi about Morgan coming to town, about all that weirdness at her house, but Vivi and Rhys had gone through enough last year, and they deserved a worry-free honeymoon. If something major happened, maybe then she’d fill Vivi in on Everything Morgan, but for now, Gwyn was happy to keep Vivi firmly out of the loop.
“Okay,” Vivi said now, then waved at the camera. “Tell Sir Purrcival I said hi, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Will do!”
Laptop closed, Gwyn glanced across the shop to Cait and Parker, who were helping rearrange the crystal display. Sam was at work at the Coffee Cauldron, but she’d stopped by earlier, and all three Baby Witches had been a little glum to learn Morgan’s file didn’t have much information.
Gwyn wasn’t exactly thrilled about that, either, but she was still trying to work out what the next step should be. She could always call Morgan, invite her to lunch, and see if Morgan might spill any information, but if Morgan was up to something, Gwyn didn’t want to show her hand so soon.
She was still contemplating what to do—and trying very hard not to look out her front window toward Penhallow’s every five seconds—when the raven over the door cawed.
“Welcome to Something Wicked!” she called out before turning to see Jane standing there.
“Oh,” she said, then dusted her hands on the back of her skirt. “Well, you need no welcome, you’re pretty familiar with this place.”
Offering a weak smile, Gwyn crossed the store to stand in front of her ex. Jane was clearly in Full Mayor Mode today, sensible black suit, sky-high heels, two cell phones clutched in one hand, an iPad peeking out from the bag on her shoulder, and a pen behind one ear.
“Don’t tell me you’re here for a plastic pumpkin,” Gwyn teased, and Jane smiled a little, shaking her head.
“Much as I enjoy them, no. I was actually going to ask you some questions about the stuff Vivi found at Penhaven for the Graves Glen Gathering. Do you want to . . . ” Jane gestured back behind her. “Grab a tea or something and chat?”
Gwyn could think of few things more awkward, but she still nodded, calling out to Cait and Parker to watch the counter for a bit, and then she and Jane were walking down Graves Glen’s picturesque main street to the Coffee Cauldron.
Gwyn ordered a dirty chai, waiting for Jane to order her usual, a coffee the size of her head, filled with enough caffeine to kill a herd of rhinos.
So when Jane ordered the peppermint tea with lemon and honey, Gwyn wondered if she’d actually heard right.
But no, Sam was definitely handing Jane a tea, and, bemused, Gwyn followed her to a back booth, sliding in across from her.
“You seem . . . calm,” Gwyn noted, looking closely at Jane. She’d really liked the mayor, but there was no getting away from the fact that the woman was a whirling dervish of stress and Red Bull most of the time.
But apparently not anymore. Jane looked as chill as Gwyn had ever seen her.
And now she was blushing a little, ducking her head as she smiled. “Lorna convinced me to switch to herbal tea instead of coffee, and she got me this app on my phone that’s supposed to make me more mindful or something.” Jane shook her head even as she held up the cell phone that was permanently attached to her hand.
“It’s silly, but it’s actually working.”
“You must really be in love to give up your beloved Americanos,” Gwyn joked, but there was nothing funny in the way Jane’s whole face seemed to go soft.
“I am, yeah,” she said, and Gwyn waited to feel a little sad, maybe even a little jealous, but there was none of that. She was just happy for Jane.
“This is a little weird,” Gwyn said as she stirred her tea, and Jane shrugged, sipping her own drink.
“What? Have you never been friends with an ex before?”
“No,” Gwyn said honestly, and Jane laughed, shaking her head.
“Have you ever tried?”
“No,” Gwyn said again. “I figured they were all too busy cursing my name or writing really bad short stories about redheads named Brynn who ruined their lives forever.”
Jane’s eyebrows disappeared underneath her bangs. “Do you think you ruined my life?”
“No one could ruin your life,” Gwyn admitted. “You’re a force of nature, it wouldn’t be allowed.”
That made Jane smile, and Gwyn was reminded that Jane had really nice smiles.
“Gwyn, we just didn’t work out,” Jane said, reaching across the table to squeeze Gwyn’s hand. “I didn’t hate you, and you didn’t break my heart. To be honest, I was mostly sad you didn’t seem to want to hang out anymore. I liked hanging out with you.”
“I liked it, too.”
“And I don’t see why we can’t keep hanging out as friends,” Jane went on. “Especially now that we’re both in other relationships.”
Gwyn almost choked on her tea. “What?”
Jane tilted her head, confused. “I just . . . I thought you and Llewellyn Penhallow were dating. Morgan Howell mentioned it to me the other day.”
Right.
She hadn’t really thought that part through when she’d thrown herself at Wells’s face in the stairwell, that news might spread, that people would think they were a thing because, you know, they’d said they were a thing.
And last night . . .
Nope, nope, nope, not thinking about that right now.
Instead, she turned her paper cup in her hands, tapping her dark green nails on the sides as she asked, “So you’ve met Morgan?”
Nodding, Jane glanced at her phone, tapping something in. “She came by the office the other day to introduce herself. She’s really interested in getting involved with everything. The Gathering, Fall Festival, Halloween . . . said if we needed anything, just let her know.”
Jane looked up, brown eyes bright. “And she went ahead and made a sizable donation toward all those things, so she’s my new favorite citizen, sorry.”
Making herself smile, Gwyn waved that off even as her mind whirred. “Anyone can write a check, Jane,” she teased. “When it comes to Halloween, you know who the real MVP is.”
Morgan had said she’d wanted to help out with stuff. Maybe that was simply because she was determined to put down roots here in Halloween Town. Maybe she really was just an involved citizen.
But Gwyn couldn’t stop thinking about all those things in Morgan’s attic, the dark magic hanging all over the place, the weird timing of her showing up now, the first Samhain after the town’s power had shifted hands.
Luckily, Jane didn’t seem to notice Gwyn’s distraction, and the two of them spent the next half hour planning out fun things for the Gathering, including a possible appearance by Sir Purrcival.
By the time Gwyn left the Coffee Cauldron, it was dark. She stopped back by the store to lock up, and as she did, she noticed the lights were still on at Penhallow’s.
Fighting the urge to go across the street, Gwyn instead got in her truck and headed back up the mountain for home.
Her cabin looked warm and cozy as she parked in front of it, and she was thinking about taking a long hot bath and putting on her comfiest nightgown, the one Vivi said made her look like a girl on the front of a Gothic novel, when she noticed that the front door was slightly ajar.
Standing there on the front steps, she held her breath for a moment, trying to remember this morning. It had been windy today, a storm brewing, and the cabin was old. Doors didn’t always close as firmly as they should, but she always locked the front door.
Had she today?
Of course she had, she thought, making herself walk up the steps. There was no feeling of magic in the air, no sense that another person was in there, but she still walked slowly, her heart thudding steadily against her ribs.
The door creaked as she pushed against it, and she reached inside, flipping on the lights, her eyes scanning the entrance.
No one there.
“Sir Purrcival?” she called. If someone had been in the house, he’d tell her.
That made her feel a little bit better until she realized the house was very quiet, no patter of paws, no howling for treats.
Sir Purrcival always met her at the door howling for treats.
Okay, now she was scared, and Gwyn took a deep breath, fingers moving at her side, pulling up a blast of magic even as she kept calling Sir Purrcival’s name.
She was so focused on looking for her cat that it took her a minute to realize her hand felt almost dead at her side, no power flowing through it at all.
Breathing hard now, she looked down, moved her fingers, and there was . . . nothing.
“Sir Purrcival?” she called again, thumping up the stairs, checking her room, Vivi’s old room, under beds, in closets, behind chairs, all his favorite spots, and all the while, she was trying to access her magic, her heart racing, her breathing starting to sound suspiciously like sobs.
Her magic wasn’t working and her cat was missing, and as she made her way out onto the front porch, the woods, her woods on her mountain, suddenly felt like they were closing in on her, like anything could be hiding in them. She was alone, and she was powerless, and she was Purrcival-less.
Overhead, clouds were scuttering across the night sky, the wind picking up, and far off in the distance, Gwyn saw a flash of lightning against the heavy clouds. Rain was coming, and up here on the mountain, storms could get intense.
And Sir Purrcival was somewhere out there.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Gwyn took deep, steadying breaths, closing her eyes for a second.
And when she opened them, bright lights appeared in the trees, heading right for her.