Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The stack of papers on Vivi’s desk was screaming.

Well, wailing, really, a sort of high-pitched shriek.

Frowning, she turned away from her computer and the email she’d been sending her department head to study the papers there on the corner as they emitted a high sort of wailing sound.

With narrowed eyes, Vivi reached for the essays, tossing one after another onto her desk until she found the one she was looking for. Not only did it appear to be shrieking, but the typed letters were slowly bleeding into red.

Hainsley Barnes.

Ah yes, Mr. Lacrosse. No shock there, then. He’d missed her last few classes, and apparently no one from last semester had bothered to tell him that Ms. Jones was particularly good at sussing out cheaters.

Being a witch had so many unexpected perks.

Smoothing her hand over the paper, Vivi removed the spell, watching the words turn back to black as the piercing whine slowly faded away, then flagged it with a red Post-it before tossing it in a drawer.

Vivi’s favorite colleague in the history department, Ezichi, stood in the doorway, wrinkling her nose, and, as the paper continued to whimper in Vivi’s desk, she gave the drawer a discreet punch.

Shit.

It was the third time this week she’d been late for the family dinner her aunt Elaine was so fanatical about, but such was midterm.

Vivi shot up from her desk, grabbing her jacket from the back of the chair and her purse as Ezi pointed at her.

Ezi took the bag from Vivi like it contained precious gems, holding it to her chest and taking a deep breath. “No offense, Vivi, but I love your aunt more than I love you.”

Literally, not that Ezi knew that. Vivi had made the decision when she’d finished her undergrad at Penhaven College that she’d do a master’s in history. Regular, human history, and that she’d teach regular, human kids, as opposed to the witches that took Penhaven’s other, slightly more secretive classes.

So far it was a decision she hadn’t regretted even if she did suspect she worked a lot harder teaching Intro to World Civ than she would have if she’d been teaching Ritual Candle-Making.

As Vivi jogged up the steps and out of the basement that housed the history department’s junior lecturers’ offices, she pulled on her jacket and attempted to text Gwyn at the same time.

Runing latr.

As soon as she hit the doors, her phone pinged in her hand.

I speak Vivi, so I know that means you’re running late. Don’t text and drive. Or text and walk, either.

Grinning, Vivi headed out into the quad. It wasn’t dark yet, and the October night was pretty mild even up here in the mountains.

Nestled in the valley, Penhaven College was a little gem of redbrick buildings and green grass, tall oak trees and neatly trimmed hedges, and Vivi loved it more than a person should probably love her workplace.

But she did love it. Especially now with the first hint of fall in the air, the leaves orange, the sky purple. Penhaven was always at its best in the autumn.

So was all of Graves Glen. Vivi noticed that the decorations for tomorrow’s Founder’s Day, the beginning of Graves Glen’s big Halloween season, were up. There were the electric candles in the window of The Written Wyrd, the town’s bookshop, and plastic pumpkin decals stuck to the door of Coffee Cauldron. Of course, Elaine and Gwyn’s store, Something Wicked, was all decked out, and Vivi was pretty sure she even spotted a dangling bat in front of her accountant’s office.

She hadn’t grown up in this little slice of perfection in the North Georgia mountains. Her parents had lived in Atlanta, and while Vivi missed them both a lot, she’d always be grateful she’d landed here in this spot that felt tailor-made for her somehow. This perfect small town where she could balance being a witch and a regular woman. Best of both worlds.

Elaine’s house was set high on a hill at the end of a winding road, and as Vivi drove up under the bright orange and red leaves, her tires bumping on the dirt road, she felt her shoulders start to relax a little, and once the cabin came into sight, she actually sighed with happiness.

Home.

Once she’d parked behind Elaine’s ancient Volvo, Vivi jogged up the front steps, past the grinning pumpkins and dangling bats and little lights in the shape of purple witches.

Aunt Elaine always went all-in for Halloween.

Just inside, Vivi stopped to pet Sir Purrcival where he was curled up in his basket. He was massive now, a hulking mass of black fur and green eyes who adored Gwyn and tolerated Elaine and Vivi, and she considered herself lucky when he only took the laziest of swats at her hand before settling back into sleep.

Elaine drifted into the hallway, her ash-blond hair piled messily on top of her head, her black skirts brushing the floor.

If Stevie Nicks taught middle school art was the way Gwyn always described her mother’s look, and that was not far off. But it worked on Aunt Elaine in a way Vivi never could’ve pulled off. She’d stick to her floral prints and polka dots.

An old argument, and one that, as usual, Vivi waved off. “You two do fine without me.”

Something Wicked sold various witchy things, from candles to scarves to soap, with the occasional homemade jam thrown in. Business always picked up this time of year, thanks to Founder’s Day, but it wasn’t unusual for them to go days without a single sale, so Elaine and Gwyn could easily run the place by themselves.

Of all the rooms in the house, this one always felt the most witchy. Copper pots hanging from hooks on the ceiling, little pots of herbs all along the windowsill, Elaine’s candle-making supplies cluttered on the table.

The effect was only slightly spoiled by Gwyn standing by the stove, wearing a T-shirt that said, Witch Don’t Kill My Vibe, and eating macaroni and cheese out of the pot.

Gwyn nodded, her messy bun of red hair nearly coming undone. “Everyone’s a witch these days,” she said, mouth full. “We sold, like, a hundred sets of tarot cards last month alone.”

Vivi raised her eyebrows as she went to the fridge to grab a bottle of wine. “Jeez, seriously?” Her aunt’s business had always been more of a hobby than an actual moneymaker, but Elaine had refused to get anything resembling a real job, and Gwyn wasn’t all that inclined to join the workforce, either.

Two of Vivi’s favorite words.

As Vivi opened the wine, Gwyn’s phone buzzed, and she sighed.

She went to put her phone back in her pocket only to have it buzz again, and she groaned. “Jane, honestly, you’re hot, but the sex was not good enough to warrant—oh, shit.”

Hastily shoving her phone in her back pocket, Gwyn picked up her wine and turned her attention to Vivi. “So! How is teaching the normies going?”

Gwyn looked between Vivi and Elaine, who was watching her with eyebrows raised, and finally groaned, wine sloshing out of her glass as she threw up her hands.

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence in the kitchen as all three women took that in.

A Penhallow.

Vivi sipped her wine. There were lots of Penhallows. Okay, there were four that she knew about. Simon Penhallow, Terrifying Witch, and his three sons.

One of whom had shattered her heart into a billion pieces when she was nineteen.

Which had been a long time ago.

And was a thing she had completely moved past.

Mostly.