Chapter 2
“Wait!”
Gwyn whirled around to see three figures standing just at the edge of the bubble’s glow, their faces a sickly green. Salt was still clutched in her fist, ready for launch, when Vivi said, “Sam?”
A young woman stepped forward, her hair bright turquoise, the bubble reflected in her glasses. Gwyn recognized her now. She was a witch at the college who also worked at the Coffee Cauldron, the café just down the street from Gwyn’s shop. The girl next to her, shorter with long black hair caught back in a braid, worked there, too, Gwyn realized. The third kid was unfamiliar, but looked just as freaked out as the other two, dark eyes wide.
Vivi clearly knew them, though, and as she moved closer, they all quailed a little bit.
“What are you three doing out here?” she asked before turning to Gwyn and saying, “This is Sam, Cait, and Parker. They’re in my History of Magic class at Penhaven. And they’re usually good students who certainly wouldn’t be in the woods, messing around with dangerous magic.”
“Okay, so I know this looks bad,” Sam said. “And admittedly, things are . . . not going to plan, but this spell is harmless, I promise.”
“It was my idea, actually, Dr. Jones,” Cait offered. “We’re all in Dr. Arbuthnot’s Simple Form Conversion class this semester, and she was teaching us about how to turn one thing into another, like, you know, a leaf into something else.”
Gwyn barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes. The college witches never strayed from their classics, did they? Why bother figuring out anything new and innovative in witchcraft when you could do the same boring lessons year after year?
“And anyway,” Cait continued, “it made me think about Halloween coming up, and we could maybe use magic to, you know, level up a little bit. For the tourists.”
“So you decided to magick up a ghost?” Vivi asked, frowning as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Gwyn went for a similar pose, hoping she looked as stern and authoritative as Vivi did, but knowing that her ghost sweater was probably undermining it.
“It isn’t a ghost!” Sam insisted. “Seriously, it’s just a little bit of glitter, glue, and water that we magicked up into looking like a ghost.” She nodded at the third member of their little party. “It was actually Parker’s idea. They’re really good at this kind of stuff.”
Parker preened a little, flicking their brown curls back. “It’s really not that hard,” they said. “You just—”
“Nope!” Vivi lifted a hand, cutting them off. “This might seem harmless, but this is exactly why we don’t do real magic for the tourists. The kids in my non-witch classes have been talking all week about this glowing thing in the woods. We’re supposed to be a little more discreet than that.”
The three witches looked a little crestfallen at that, and Gwyn could tell Cait was about to argue. And honestly, she got it. What was the point of having magic if you couldn’t have some fun with it?
But Gwyn knew she needed to have her cousin’s back here, so she stepped closer to Vivi and said, “Vivi’s right, y’all. Trust me, magic that seems like a little bit of fun and not all that serious can very easily blow up in your faces. And if you want to try something like this, you need to have a more experienced witch supervising at the very least.”
She and Vivi had had Elaine, after all.
But Sam only looked glum, shaking her head. “Dr. Jones, you know how strict the college is. There are all these rules about when and where we’re supposed to do magic. We never get the chance to just . . . improvise. Try new things.”
“Yeah, those rules are actually there for good reasons, and I say that as someone who hates rules on principle,” Gwyn replied, then glanced over at Vivi.
Vivi loved rules. Rules were her favorite.
But instead, Vivi was watching the trio of witches with a thoughtful expression. “I guess the college is a little formal on that kind of thing,” she said slowly. “And part of developing your skills does come from practice . . . ”
Now she turned to Gwyn, who frowned. “Don’t do thinky face at me,” she said, and Vivi’s brow furrowed.
“I don’t have a thinky face.”
“You do! You’re thinky facing at me right now, and I don’t like it!”
“I was just thinking—” Vivi started, and Gwyn pointed at her.
“See?”
Ignoring that, Vivi went on, “—that maybe this is also part of our responsibility now. To the town. To mentor young witches. Give them a safe space to try out magic that isn’t connected to the college.”
There was that word again, and Gwyn was going to remind Vivi that they had plenty of responsibilities as it was—Gwyn had the store, Vivi had two jobs, and Halloween was next month, which meant things would get even more hectic. Now she wanted them to set up some kind of Girl Scout troop for Baby Witches?
But then Gwyn looked over Vivi’s shoulder and saw that Sam, Cait, and Parker’s faces were practically glowing at the thought, their eyes going the full puppy dog, and when she glanced back at the “ghost,” she had to admit, it was a pretty impressive bit of magic. The luminescent effect alone was tough to create, even tougher to maintain, and they’d done it.
And, if she was honest, she could admit that there was something kind of fun about the idea of being an Elaine for a new generation of witches.
“Fine,” she said on a sigh. “But only because I think it would really piss off your bosses at the college.”
Vivi shook her head, smiling, and then turned back to her students.
“All right, so Gwyn and I will work with you if you want to start trying out spells. But. No more skulking around in the woods at night, and absolutely no ‘improvising’ without talking to one of us first, okay?”
The three of them nodded so fast it was a wonder their heads didn’t snap off, and Vivi dusted her hands together, clearly pleased with herself.
“So now the only thing to do is get rid of this,” she said, gesturing back to the hovering blob, and Parker frowned.
“Yeah. That’s . . . kind of why we were out here. We’re not really sure how to unmake it?”
Gwyn turned back to the shimmering mass, now significantly less scary since she knew what it was made out of and who had made it.
Without giving it too much thought, she reached back into her bag, grabbing that handful of salt again.
Vivi frowned. “Gwyn, I don’t know—”
“Oh, come on,” Gwyn said. “Couldn’t hurt!”
And with that extremely ill-fated pronouncement, she threw the salt.
“Has anyone told you you’re a wee bit impulsive, Gwynnevere?”
Gwyn glared across the table at Rhys, Vivi’s husband, as she scrubbed her wet hair with a towel. She’d taken a twenty-minute shower when she’d gotten back to her cabin, but she still felt like she was covered in ghost goop. How could something technically made out of glue, glitter, and magic be so disgusting when it exploded?
There probably wasn’t a shower strong enough to make her ever feel clean again, a sentiment Vivi clearly shared because she still hadn’t emerged from the upstairs bathroom.
“As a matter of fact, they have,” Gwyn answered Rhys now. “Teachers, several exes, and one particularly mean traffic court judge. And now you.”
“What glorious company I keep,” Rhys replied, moving to the counter where an electric kettle was bubbling away.
Vivi appeared, wrapped in one of Elaine’s robes, her damp hair leaving spots on the peacock-blue silk. “I feel like that was the first of many showers I’m going to take tonight,” she said, and Rhys smiled at her, handing her a mug of tea.
“As long as I get to join in on at least one, I see no problems there, my love.”
Vivi smiled at that, stepping closer, and as they wrapped their arms around each other, Gwyn rolled her eyes. She was happy for them, really, and Goddess knew the two of them had been through it before finding this happily ever after, but honestly, there had to be limits.
“I am sitting right here,” she said. “Zero desire to be privy to any of this!”
“Hey,” Vivi said, pointing a finger at Gwyn. “Do you know how many times I had to sit on the couch and watch you full-on make out with someone while I pretended to look at my phone? This is payback.”
“Fair,” Gwyn admitted, even as she realized just how long it had been since she’d made out with anyone. Months, really.
That was depressing.
Rhys chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to Vivi’s forehead before pulling away and turning back to the tea, Vivi coming to sit across from Gwyn at the table. This tended to be the place they all gathered these days even though Vivi had her own apartment over the store downtown, where she and Rhys currently lived. Technically Rhys had his family’s place higher up the mountain, but given that the house was like something out of a Tim Burton movie, it usually sat empty.
Rhys walked back to the table, handing Gwyn a mug, and since he’d used her favorite tea blend, she decided to forgive him for making her think about shower sex.
“I have to say, I like this part where we go out to do witch things and you stay here and make tea,” Gwyn said, blowing over the top of her mug as her cat, Sir Purrcival, leapt up onto the table. Gwyn had tried shooing him down over the years, but the fact that he now had a very cozy cat bed right in the center of things was proof of who’d won that fight.
He blinked at her, his eyes a bright yellow green against his black fur as Rhys snorted, pouring hot water into his own mug. “I know my strengths,” he told her before coming to sit down next to his wife.
“And, spell explosion aside, it seems like you had a productive night,” he continued. “Found out the source of the ghost rumors, steered some local youths back onto the correct path . . . ”
“That was all Vivi,” Gwyn assured him. “She made thinky face at me, and I was helpless to resist.”
“I do not have a thinky face,” Vivi objected, but Rhys smiled, shaking his head.
“You absolutely do, my love. It’s one of my top favorite faces of yours. Something sort of like this.”
Rhys furrowed his brow just the slightest bit, his eyes taking on a faraway expression, and Gwyn slapped the table with her free hand.
“That’s it! God, that’s uncanny.”
Vivi scowled as she glanced back and forth between them. “You know, it was much better for me when you two didn’t like each other.”
“I’ve always liked Gwyn,” Rhys protested, and Gwyn shrugged.
“I didn’t like you.”
“Dickbag,” Sir Purrcival said sleepily from his spot in the middle of the table, and Rhys scowled at the cat.
“Still no luck on reversing the whole talking spell thing, I take it?” he asked Gwyn, and she shrugged.
“Not really a priority.” Thanks to some witchery fuckery last year, Sir Purrcival could speak. It turned out a cat’s thoughts were mostly about food and insults, but Gwyn had gotten used to it.
She leaned forward, petting Purrcival, and he lived up to his name, purring happily as she stroked his back. Across the table, Rhys’s hand went to the back of Vivi’s neck, and she leaned into his touch just the littlest bit, probably unconsciously.
Gwyn felt it again, that weird little feeling in the pit of her stomach that could not be jealousy or longing or anything like that, because those were feelings Gwyn very much did not have.
But it was . . . something, and she didn’t like it.
To distract herself from possibly feeling feelings, Gwyn reached across the table for the little jar of lavender honey, adding some more to her tea as she asked, “So big trip rapidly approaching?”
“Yes, it is,” Rhys said, “and it will shock you not at all to learn that Vivienne already has a very thorough packing list. I, on the other hand—”
“Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
Vivi said the words hesitantly, glancing back and forth between Rhys and Gwyn. “Just . . . tonight reminded me that now that our magic is fueling the town, we have—”
“Vivi, if you say ‘responsibilities’ one more time tonight, I am going to create another ghost blob just to explode on you all over again.”
“Well, we do,” Vivi said. “And Halloween is coming up.”
“In over a month,” Gwyn reminded her, and Rhys took his wife’s hand, nodding.
“And we’ll be back in time.”
“And you deserve a long-delayed honeymoon.”
“And that,” Rhys agreed, pointing at Gwyn. “Plus you’ve wanted to take this trip for ages.”
Vivi bit her lower lip, thinking. “It would be really helpful with my research.”
“Go,” Gwyn urged her now. “Everything here will be fine. The store is doing great. It practically runs itself this time of year anyway, and to be honest, I’ve been craving some alone time.”
Both of those were lies—the store wasn’t doing so hot right now despite their being so close to Halloween. And Gwyn was actually slightly allergic to being alone, but she gave her cousin her brightest smile.
“Besides, I want souvenirs. Little Welsh flags, maybe some kind of stuffed dragon situation . . . ooh, and if you see Rhys’s brother, you can kick him in the nads for me!”
“Which brother?” Rhys asked, then held up a hand. “I mean, I’ll happily kick either one, I just need to make sure I’ve calculated the appropriate defense strategy once they’ve gotten up.”
“She means Wells,” Vivi said, smiling a little at last. “She’s still holding a grudge about the wedding.”
Rhys pulled a face. “I’m not holding a grudge about the wedding, and it was my wedding. And my brother, for that matter.”
Gwyn shrugged. “Don’t seek to question my grudge-holding ways, Rhys. I’m a Taurus.”
She didn’t bother to add that her grudge against Wells Penhallow had existed since long before the wedding, that it had its roots in her college days, but if a girl could hold a grudge, she could also keep some secrets.
“Fair enough,” Rhys replied. “Welsh flag, stuffed dragon, emasculated brother, all for you upon our return.”
Vivi finally laughed, leaning her head briefly against Rhys’s shoulder.
“Okay, I can’t beat you when you team up,” she said. “You’re right. Everything’s fine, the town will be fine, and we will totally go to Wales as planned.”
“Thank sweet Christ,” Rhys said on a sigh, flopping back in his chair, and Gwyn smiled, reaching across the table to squeeze Vivi’s hand.
“Look, we’ve already dealt with an entire cursed town, a talking cat, and now an exploding ghost, and we’ve handled all of it. What could possibly happen that would be worse than any of that?”