Wallflower Witch

The Cursed Coven of Spells Hollow book 2

Rachelle Bonifay and Roseyk Klayborn

Nightshade Publishing

Copyright © 2024 by Rachelle Bonifay and Roseyk Klayborn.

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Nightshade Publishing supports artists. Generative AI was not used in any part of the creation of this work.

To the wallflowers out in the world, may you find your hidden magic and shine.

Contents

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

3. Chapter 3

4. Chapter 4

5. Chapter 5

6. Chapter 6

7. Chapter 7

8. Chapter 8

9. Chapter 9

10. Chapter 10

11. Chapter 11

12. Chapter 12

13. Chapter 13

14. Chapter 14

15. Chapter 15

16. Chapter 16

17. Chapter 17

18. Chapter 18

19. Chapter 19

Up Next

EXPLORE THE WITCHES OF SPELLS HOLLOW

The sun beats softly on my face. The waves crashing in the distance call me forward, over the hill and towards the ocean. This is my happy place, where I came with my family as a child to spend the summers. Where I could play and roam and didn’t have a care in the world. Where I was free from the taunts of the other kids. 

I reach the top and look at the water beyond, breathing in the salty air and feeling my stress melt away. 

Slipping my shoes off, I step onto the sand. The heat seeps into my feet and warms my body. I smile remembering my mom and how safe and warm I felt in her embrace. My smile falters as the grief sneaks back in making it hard to breathe. I turn my back to the sun and walk to the water. With each step, my toes sink into the wet sand, and the waves lap against my feet. Even now, this place is my safe haven where the rest of the world doesn’t matter. Finding a secluded cove, I turn up towards some rocks, hoping to sit for a little bit and just be. 

Settling, I let out a content sigh and let my mind wander more. Thinking about my last boyfriend, I grimace. He refused to accept me for me and I am glad to be done with him. My thoughts flow in and out, some sticking around for me to ponder and some disappearing as fast as the waves slowly crash onto the sand. I almost think I can see the land changing. I don’t know what I’m waiting for. I just have a feeling that something is coming, and I need to be here for it. 

As the sun sets and the blood moon fills the sky, I decide I’m tired of waiting around. I stand up and walk into the shallow water. I spin and twirl, letting my hands drag through the water and flicking droplets into the night air around me. I laugh, feeling like a child again, carefree and living in the moment. 

The sound of feet on the sand catches my attention. There’s no breeze, so I shouldn’t be hearing those high-pitched squeaks-like feet running on the beach.The ocean is calm almost like it’s waiting for something. Spinning, I see a man standing there. Tall, dark, and well-muscled. His eyes are the color of kelp, a green so deep it’s almost black, and when my gaze connects with his, his Cupid’s bow lips quirk into a smirk. My knees go weak.

He slowly steps into the water, lifting his hand and holding it out to me. I blink, and suddenly I’m standing directly in front of him, placing my hand in his. His thumb runs over mine as we stare deep into each other’s eyes. 

“May I have this dance?” he rumbles, then places a kiss on my knuckles. 

I giggle. “There’s no music.” 

“We can dance to the song of the ocean,” he says, wrapping his free arm around my waist and pulling us close enough that our hips touch. 

Gasping, I wrap my arm over his shoulder. He leads us in a pattern that I think could be a waltz, and I can’t help but laugh. 

“What’s so funny, my lady?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. 

It takes me a few minutes to get my laughter under control before I can answer. “What would someone say if they came here and saw us?” I ask. 

“What do you mean? There’s no one here to see us, and we aren’t doing anything wrong, even if there was.” 

“I know,” I say. “But think about it. We are knee-deep in the ocean, slow-dancing without music. We can’t look sane.” I break into more giggles and lean my head against his chest, realizing for the first time he is only in a pair of board shorts. His laugh rumbles around like thunder, and he tightens the arm around my waist as we sway back and forth. 

I don’t know what comes over me, but my tongue darts out to taste his chest. He freezes. 

I’m too mortified to meet his eyes as I mumble, “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I did that.” 

I drop my chin to my chest and pull away.

His hand shoots into my hair, gripping at the base of my skull, then he pulls my head back, forcing my eyes up. “Do it again,” he says, his grip firm. I scrunch my eyes at the demand. His hold makes it impossible to do, but he isn’t letting go. “Again,” he insists.

“I can’t,” I say, and his grip tightens. 

“Why not?” he asks, staring at my face. 

“Your grip is too tight,” I tell him. 

He tilts his head like he doesn’t understand. I roll my eyes and try to move my head toward his chest. He stares at me for a moment, then his grip loosens, and his hand slides through my hair. I lean forward and my tongue darts out, wanting to taste his skin again, only to be met by the feel of cotton. 

I jerk back, raising my eyes to see an older man standing in front of me. 

“I beg your pardon!” he says, taking a step back. “I don’t know what you are doing, but I will have you know I am happily married.” 

I shift back, hoping to add more space. “Not again,” I mumble to myself. “I thought I was done with this.” Pressing my hands against my eyes, I shake my head a few times, trying to make the man before me disappear. I peek between my fingers. “Nope. Still there.”

“What are thou doing?” the man demands. “I was fortunate sitting i’ the Summerland, relaxing, and then I was sent hither to see a relative of mine. Some great-great-however many great-niece only to arrive and be accosted! Who are thou? Why are thou hither? And why are thou acting so off?”

“Please say I did NOT just lick one of my dead relatives,” I murmur to myself, wiping my tongue on my shoulder. “Gross!” 

I look back at the man, realizing we have ended up at the bottom of the rocks I was sitting on earlier. “I’m Morrigan O’Byrne. And who are you?”

“I am William O’Byrne, Lord of the House of O’Byrne.” He reaches up and straightens his already straight collar. “If this is what our family hath come to, I worry about the state of our lineage.” He sniffs and glares down his nose at me. 

I hang my head. “Sorry to disappoint,” I mumble. 

“Regardless, I can report I have found thou and may finally have peace.” He pulls out an old gold pocket watch, checks the time, then snaps it closed. “Took long enough,” I think I hear him murmur before he fades away. 

“Well, that was weird.” 

I dig my toes into the sand to ground myself. Where did he come from, and what did he mean about being my uncle? I have been on my own since my parents died in a car accident when I was barely old enough to remember them. 

I shake my head and look back toward the ocean, searching for the happy feeling I had before. I stare at the water, watching it slowly lap away at the sand. 

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I jerk sharply, then swat at my alarm clock to stop the incessant noise. 

Rubbing my eyes, I stretch before throwing the covers off. 

What a weird dream. I shuffle into the shower and hope the hot water will help me to wake up. 

* * *

Walking into the library, I make my way to the bottom floor. I spend my days in the archives scanning historical text and doing my best to keep all items in their best shape possible. Down here is my little slice of heaven. I get to spend my days learning about the history of our area and helping the random scholar who comes down. But mostly, it is just me and the books. No one to judge me or ask questions I don’t want to answer. 

I move to the vault and pull out the journal I’ve been working on. It’s a record of when the town was built, written by one of the town founders. I’ve already scanned the pages, but now I’m working on manually transcribing each page. Sitting at the computer, I open the journal up to the last page I transcribed.

Finding my spot, I begin to type.

I’ the first month, there were arguments about which issues would compose the choices, but they were squashed with haste. A new town doesn’t mean we forget our roots and history. Should thee come from nought, thou does not suddenly get to help compose the decisions for everyone. We will hark what those around us have to say. 

Movement in the corner of the room catches my attention. I look up to see a woman standing there. It normally wouldn’t be odd, since we are open to the public, but the bell on the door never chimed. 

I drape a ribbon in the journal and close it, leaving it by the computer. Walking toward the woman, I smile and do my best to ignore the odd way she is dressed. Her dress has a high ruffled neckline, long sleeves, and comes down to the tops of her feet, where black boots peek out. She looks out of place in the climate-controlled area filled with glass cases, computers, and all the comforts of the twenty-first century. 

“Hi, I’m so sorry I didn’t hear you come in,” I begin. “Is this your first time in the archives?” I pause a few feet away from her. She cocks her head to the side and doesn’t respond. “Can I help you find something?” 

Her gaze slides up and down before she nods slightly. Her mouth opens and moves like she’s speaking, but no sounds come out. 

“Oh, one second!” I turn and grab a notepad and pen from the desk. “Here, do you want to write it down?” I hold the notepad out, letting go as her hand closes on the other end. It clatters to the floor. 

“Oops.” I bend and pick it up. When I straighten up, the woman is gone. 

“Hello?” I call out, spinning. Where could she have gone? “Ma’am?” I can’t see her anywhere. I shake my head. “That’s weird. How did she leave that fast? Maybe I’ve been spending too much time alone down here.” 

I walk back over to the computer and pick up the journal, placing it back in the vault and locking the door. I leave the archives and head into the library upstairs. 

“Hey, Morrigan! How are you today? I didn’t see you come in,” George, the gray-haired, stooped man who covers the library desk during the day, calls out. He is one of my few friends and fills the spot of being my honorary grandfather. 

“I came in early,” I admit. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” Shrugging, I lean across the counter from him. “I came up to see if you were able to help that lady who came in earlier.” His eyes crinkle as he thinks. “She was in a long dress and had her hair in a fancy-looking updo. I tried to find out what she needed, but she left when I looked away for a second.” 

George scratches his chin. “I don’t think any of the moms who came in this morning were wearing long dresses, but I wasn’t paying too much attention. We’ve only had our group for the Mommy and Me read-aloud come through so far.”

“I don’t think that she was part of the group,” I hedge, then shake my head. “Well, I hope she found whatever she was looking for. Guess I should get back to work. See you for lunch in a few hours?” 

“You know it’s the highlight of my day,” he answers cheerfully. 

I wave and head back down the stairs. I normally love my time in the archives. It’s quiet and peaceful. I typically only have the random university student coming in to do research, and I like that I can choose to help George in the main library or stay downstairs and read my books. 

For the rest of the day, I can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching me, but every time I look around, no one is there. 

With a clack of metal on wood, my keys land in a jumble on the side table just inside my front door. As much as I love spending my day in the archives, today frayed my nerves. First with the strange appearance—and disappearance—of the lady in the long dress, then the constant feeling of being watched as I transcribed the journal. The air conditioning unit decided to add to the already shitty day by fritzing out, sending occasional bursts of freezing air to coat the books and me. 

The only good part was a lunch of cheddar and roast beef on sourdough—the bread freshly baked by George’s wife—which the two of us ate between the children’s creative caboose hour and the smut club finding their next book of the month. 

They settled on a popular new book about dragon riders, war, and romance as I made my way back downstairs to work until 6 p.m. finally rolled around. 

With the steaming bag of Mexican takeout carefully balanced on my palm, I make my way over to dump it on the coffee table next to my bed that takes up nearly a third of my postage-stamp-sized apartment. I take the extra helping of rice and dump it onto the windowsill for Quoth’s dinner, admiring the red hue of the super blood moon as he swoops down to greet me. 

The raven has been a constant companion at home for the last three years since the night he turned up nearly dead at the apartment’s window. Weeks of care later, he finally flapped his beautiful wings out of my life, only to come swooping back in a few hours later. Now, he spends most of his nights perched on my sill or pacing after me as I go about my night. 

Honestly, most of the time, he seems to be taking care of me more than I take care of him. More of a roommate than a pet. He even seems to be able to follow along when I’m listening to audiobooks while cooking. 

“Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” I sigh, leaning against the kitchen counter with my supper. “Maybe I should’ve taken up George’s dinner invitation. I think I’ve been spending far too much time alone.”

Quoth croaks, gulping down rice like he hasn’t eaten for weeks. 

I cough. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’m the weirdo who talks to a bird like it can understand me.” 

I dig into the meal and soon after fall into a YouTube hole of bookbinding and creating art with books; a sacrilegious yet beautiful practice, even if I can’t quite bring myself to chop up the pages like that. The bookbinding videos give me a few new techniques to experiment with in my free time, though, and I can’t wait to try them out. 

* * *

The odd lady is back, once again standing in the corner of the archives, not a frill or ruffle out of place on her old-fashioned dress. I round my desk and slowly approach, reaching for a pen and paper as I go, since she couldn’t seem to speak the last time she was here. 

Her face twists into a severe scowl, mouth working but nothing coming out. I pass the notebook over, and she grabs it, once again dropping it to the ground. But this time my eyes catch on her outstretched hand, watching as it changes from a pale—nearly translucent—white into a warmer ivory tone. 

A soft sigh escapes her lips, and the scowl turns into a smile. “I knew it. You do have the gift.”

“Oh!” I stumble back a little, falling onto my ass. “You do speak. I’m sorry, Ma’am, I don’t know what gift you’re referring to. But if you could give me a few more details, I can get us started in the right direction.” 

We may not have the largest collection of historical and public records here, but it’s still a decent amount spread across twenty shelves, three worktables, and a book carousel modeled after the one in the Biblioteca Palafoxiana. 

I was thrilled to find this job in a place that would allow me the freedom to collect and care for so many books in need. It’s taken some time, but with the hard work of myself and the other archivist, James, we’ve turned the bottom floor of this library into a historian’s wet dream. At least, that’s what he tells me. 

“Is it a historical record you want to find?” I wave her over to my desk. “I can check other archives as well, in the case that we don’t have what you’re looking for.”

“Follow your heart, child,” the lady whispers. 

I gasp, not expecting her to be standing right behind me. She’s surprisingly light-footed for her looks, but one should never judge only by what’s on the cover. I should know. That’s Archivist 101.

“O-kay.” I draw the word out slowly, considering my search options. “Follow. Your. Heart.” I press enter and cross my fingers. I’m not sure what she expects to find with that, but if this is how things are starting, it’s going to be a long day. 

The search results pop up, the first from a diary with an entry saying “They told me, follow your heart, and it led me to Spells Hollow. I know now that was what saved me from those monsters with their torches.” 

“Come home, Morrigan. Your family needs you.” 

I turn around. The lady fades out of sight, her words burning their way into my mind. 

I’m screaming when I wake up, some random YouTube video about the historical burning of witches playing through my laptop’s speaker. Quoth flies into the air from where he was snacking on the bag of chips I opened around midnight last night. He glares at me and perches on the windowsill, a loud croak pronouncing his irritation at being disturbed. 

Shit, it was just a dream. 

Blowing out a breath, I sit up and brush chip-crumbs from my shirt. “Sorry, Quoth. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

I pause the video and freeze. Across the top of a desolate town are the words Spells Hollow: Thought to be home to one of the largest witch covens in the USA before its destruction in the 1600s. 

“Spells Hollow again,” I mutter. A quick Google search shows it’s only a couple of hours away. I shake my head. “This is stupid, Mor. You aren’t going to drive to some ghost town in the middle of nowhere because of a weird dream.”

Quoth croaks, coming over to peck at the map on my laptop screen. When I swat him away, he flies over to my key hook and steals my car keys, dropping them in my lap as he swoops past. I swat at him, shaking my head in reprimand. 

“No, Quoth. I’m not going to Spells Hollow. I’m going to go into work and finish transcribing the journal we just got in. Hopefully, I’ll forget all about the dream and Spells Hollow while I do that.” 

* * *

An hour later and I’m doing just that, opening the journal to the ribboned page.

The resistance to our new laws was much stronger than originally anticipated. M suggested lightening the severity of punishments for breaking those laws, but if we become lax in our governing of the people, how will we protect the people? No. Indeed, I believe we must remain steadfast in our original goals. Though the townsfolk may not see it yet, this is for the greater good of humankind.

A breeze flutters the pages. I glance up. “James? Did you leave the window open again?”

“Window? Nah, it’s too chilly in the morning for that yet. Why, is something wrong?” James pops his head out from the back shelves, elbow-deep in a box of new papers for us to categorize. 

“I thought I felt some wind. It must’ve just been my imagination.” I rub my eyes, wishing I’d had time for a nap before coming in this morning. The weird dream I had is making me feel extra exhausted, and it isn’t even noon. “Are you finding anything worthwhile back there?”

“Yeah, looks like there are a few new journals and diaries, an old map, and those four boxes are all full of old newspapers and pictures.” He stands up, pushing his glasses farther up his nose as he walks to me. “Here, this might be of interest to you. That map and this journal are from Spells Hollow, the same place as that diary you transcribed a month or so ago. I remember you saying you were curious about what happened after the diary cut off suddenly in the last entry.” 

The leather-bound book thuds onto my desk, and I stare up at James in shock as he continues, “I’m not sure who keeps sending ‘em here, but it sure makes interesting reading.” 

I snatch the book up, carefully flipping it open to the first page. There, in a large scrawl, reads Property of William O’Byrne, Lord of the House of O’Byrne, in the year of our Lord: 1667. 

William O’Byrne.

My mind flashes back to the dream I had a few nights ago of the snooty old man on the beach. He said he was my multiple-greats uncle and had even used that exact title. But there’s no way I could’ve seen an actual ancestor of mine in my dreams. 

“I…have to go,” I say shakily. 

Pushing away from the computer, I grab my things in a rush, calling out an apology to James and George in turn as I run to my car and floor it back home. I’ll have to email them an excuse once I make it into Spells Hollow. 

Packing my bags only takes twenty minutes and then I’m back on the road, Quoth happily resting in a cage on the passenger seat. 

“Okay, Quoth. Let’s see what this place is about.”

Itype the address into my GPS and hit the road, singing along to some of my favorite artists to help pass the time, and sharing snacks with Quoth. After leaving the city, there’s nothing out here for miles aside from the occasional gas station.

Finally, as the sun is about to rise, I see lights up ahead. It looks like a gas station. Once I’m closer, I see it’s also an old timey diner and a motel that looks like more people pass it up than stay. 

I guess it’s not totally abandoned then, but I don’t see any houses or places where locals would live. GPS says that I’m only a few miles away from Spells Hollow but I can’t imagine such a thriving town in a place like this.

I slow the car, and a fog settles on the road in front of me. The GPS cheerily announces my exit on a dirt road I can barely see between the trees, and I take it rolling forward to look for anything that could relate to the journal. This doesn’t feel right. I feel a pull that I’m missing something. Looking to the side, I notice a small dirt path barely big enough for a car to pass through with large rocks and plants growing in the middle, like it hasn’t been maintained in years. A shiver creeps down my spine as Quoth caws softly. 

The fog is dense enough that I can’t see anything more than a few feet in front of me as I turn onto the path. My hands ache from the white-knuckled grip I have on the wheel. Letting my foot off the gas, I quickly turn my music down, then squint at the dirt road ahead of me. I don’t know how, but I know I have to go this way.

I shriek. A man wearing jeans and a plaid shirt and looking the part of a lumberjack is in the middle of the road. I slam on the brakes, hoping there is enough time to stop. He turns slowly, his eyes locking with mine as I jerk to a stop. 

He blinks, cocking his head to the side. Throwing the car in park, I jump out. 

“Are you okay?!” I ask. “I swear, I didn’t see you there. I’m a good driver. I’ve never been in a wreck or gotten a ticket or anything!” 

The man looks at my hands waving wildly before opening his mouth, but no sound comes out. 

“Wait, why are you just standing in the road? And where did you come from?” I pause, sucking in a deep breath. 

The man shuffles forward, and I take a small step backward. I almost hit him with my car, and if that doesn’t give him a reason to attack me, I’m not sure what would. 

He pauses and shakes his head. I freeze too. 

“I’m sorry, I haven’t let you answer yet. Are you okay?” 

He shakes his head, his mouth moving like he’s talking, but again, no sound comes out. 

“Hmm… I don’t have any paper with me, but you could type on my phone.” 

I turn back to my car and bend down, retrieving my phone from the cupholder. Spinning back around, I pull open the notes app. 

“Here.” I hold it out to him. 

His shoulders slump, and he shakes his head. He turns toward the side of the road, and I swallow down a scream. An axe is lodged in his back, the handle broken in half. 

“Oh shit! I’ll call someone! Hang on! You should probably sit down.” I look down to see a No Signal across the top of my phone. “Shoot! I’m sor—” 

The man is gone. 

How could he move that quickly when he’s so injured? I’m debating going after him or going farther into town to see if I can find help when the fog lifts like it was never there. I move to the side of the road and look down the wooded path. He’s not there. He’s not walking up the trail or lying on the ground passed out. 

“Not again. I thought coming here would give me answers.” I rub my eyes, then check one more time before getting into the car and crawling slowly across the bumpy path that GPS insists is the correct route.. 

Cresting the hill, I find myself in a dilapidated area that could have been a nice neighborhood at one point. What’s left of the houses sit on lots that have some of the large trees cleared out. The houses look like log cabins, and I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia for simpler times. Most of the windows are boarded up, and the ones that aren’t appear to be broken in their frames. The yards which may have been beautiful gardens are overgrown with weeds. Whoever lived here has been gone a long time.

“What happened here?” I ask Quoth. 

He caws, then turns to look back out the window.

I speed up, hoping to find someone who can clue me in on what this town is and why I was drawn here. My car bumps down the road, and I cringe, hoping I’m not condemning it to the mechanics when all is done.

A woman standing in her yard catches my attention. I stop in front of her and roll the window down. 

“Hello,” I call out. “I hate to disturb you, but I am hoping you could help me.” 

She looks around like she is searching for someone else before turning back to me. 

“Are you from here?” I try again. 

The lady cocks her head to the side, then points to herself. 

“Yes. Are you from here?”

She glides forward toward the car, still scanning around like someone is going to jump out of the weeds and take over. 

“I’m sorry if I spooked you,” I try again. “Can you tell me if there’s somewhere I can rent a room for tonight? I work in the city and have been transcribing journals from when the town was founded, and I just can’t get this place out of my mind, so I came to see it for myself.”

She pauses a few feet from my car. She smiles and lifts her hand, pointing farther up the road. Her mouth opens, but again no sound comes out. Her hand moves this way and that, as if she is going through telling me how to get somewhere, but I can’t hear a thing. My brow furrows. What’s happening to me? The woman moves closer to the car and places her hand on the window frame where mine is. A rush of cold, like stepping into a freezer, fills me. 

Suddenly, I’m not in my car in the middle of the road; I’m standing in a living room with a glass of champagne in my hand. I’m waiting for someone to arrive, but I can’t remember who. I lift the glass and take a sip. It tastes weird, but maybe it’s a new brand. 

I gasp and blink rapidly, bringing my surroundings back into focus. The woman is nowhere to be found, but I don’t care. I hit the gas pedal and shoot up the road. I desperately need to find someone or somewhere normal. 

* * *

Coming out of the forest, I find an area that looks slightly better off than the area I left. Ten houses sit in a circle around what could have once been a park. It’s hard to tell. The space in the middle is a large open area filled with… nothing. Well, almost nothing. There’s a wooden structure with what looks like a rope noose hanging from the middle of it. 

I park my car, grab Quoth, and get out to take a closer look. After a few steps, I stop looking around. I could swear I feel eyes on me but don’t see anyone. I see a large crack running through the earth in a circle just behind the houses; ranging from a few inches deep in some spots to deep enough I can’t see the bottom from where I stand in others. It’s almost like something attacked this area, or maybe the area beyond. The houses inside the circle seemed to have fared better than the ones I passed on the way in. 

I shake my head and continue toward the center. The ground is red dirt, not a blade of grass or weed to be seen in the whole space. 

“I wonder why nothing grows here?” I say to Quoth. “It’s like the land is dead.” 

He flaps his wings from his perch on my shoulder. 

I continue closer, wanting to look at the rope that survived whatever happened here. As I cross onto the dirt, I blink, then startle. I’m suddenly surrounded by at least a dozen people. My breath catches as air refuses to enter my lungs. I spin around trying to figure out how they snuck up without me hearing anything

Men, women, and even some children mill about the area. If I believed in magic, I’d say this place had a concealment spell on it, but I know that’s not real. A few at a time, they seem to notice me. Some smile. Some glare. Some look me over before turning and continuing on with what they were doing beforehand. A woman walks over with a smile plastered on her face. She’s dressed in a long black dress that loosely covers her from wrist to ankle, along with a white apron and bonnet. She looks like she stepped out of a story about pilgrims. 

The more I look around, the more I realize that most of the people are dressed like they are from the 1600s. I wonder if there is an event they are getting ready to host. A reenactment of some kind of what life was like when the town was founded. A handful of people are in more modern clothes ranging from the 1920s flapper dress, to some dressed like 70s flower children, to some in jeans and t-shirts.

The lady holds her hand out toward me like she wants to shake. 

“Hi, I’m Morrigan.” I place my hand in hers. Well, I try to, but my hand seems to pass right through hers. Shivering, I tuck my hand under my arm, trying to warm it up from where it feels like I was holding ice for the afternoon. 

When I blink again, I’m standing in the same square, but it’s filled with grass and people. Everyone is chatting loudly like a show is about to start. A man with a tall hat stands in front of the rope, a scroll in his hands. It’s dark. The full moon hangs high in the sky and casts just enough light for us to see by. I catch bits and pieces of the conversation around me. The words execution and witch are repeated by many. Horse hooves sound from behind us, and I turn to see who approaches. 

Someone touches my arm, and I jerk. I’m back in the dead square in the middle of the day. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” a deep voice says from behind me. “I was passing through to check on the area and saw you standing here staring at nothing. I was worried you were having a medical episode.” 

“Thanks for checking on me, but I’m fine,” I tell him, meeting his crystal blue eyes. “I just came to learn more about the town and must have gotten distracted. I’m Morrigan O’Byrne.”

“I’m Patrick. Nice to meet you, Morrigan.”

My pulse skyrockets as I take in the gorgeous hunk standing with me in the middle of the abandoned square. All thoughts of the strange things I just saw vanish when the warmth of his large palm encloses mine. 

“O’Byrne, you say?” His eyes gleam with recognition. 

Turning on his heel, Patrick slips my hand to the crook of his elbow and escorts me back towards my trusty ol’ hunk of junk sitting on the road by a shiny new pickup. How I hadn’t heard his approach is beyond me. 

“I haven’t heard that name around these parts in decades,” he says.

“Decades?” I squeak, pleased to at least get that much out through the too-thick tongue now residing in my mouth. At work, I have no trouble talking to the patrons, but put me out in the world for five seconds, and I’m lucky to string a couple words together. 

I probably only managed to introduce myself because of the shock his arrival gave me. 

Why did my dreams make it seem like I would find family here if they haven’t been in this area for so long? Oh, right. Because it was a dream, and I was reading the journal and diary and made it all up.

“That’s right. If I remember the stories correctly, the last O’Byrne left and moved to Massachusetts or something after the curse hit. Not that my family knows exactly what happened; we weren’t witches in the coven. My relatives lived far enough away to not be affected by the curse and shared the stories with their grandchildren.” 

He shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest as he studies me and my car. “The O’Byrnes were one of Spells Hollow’s founding families. In fact, you share a name with the goddess Morrigan, who is rumored to be where the O’Byrnes got their witch powers from.”

“Powers,” I repeat in disbelief. 

Why, oh why, did I drive all this way for this insanity? And a goddess? Maybe the town is abandoned because spending too much time here makes you go crazy. That explains the people I keep seeing who are there and then gone again. 

Shaking my head, I back away from Patrick, mind racing. I was just hallucinating. The things I kept dreaming about this place were just coincidences that were caused by sleep deprivation and transcribing the journal and diary from here. That’s all. 

Patrick rubs the back of his neck, a sheepish smile filling his handsome face. “Aw shit, sorry. Here I’ve been yakking along about the town and you’re probably ready to get exploring. I just swung through ‘cause I thought I saw some smoke, but it must’ve just been dust from your car bouncing through those ruts. My family’s always kinda taken it upon ourselves to look after the area, so I had to look in on it.”

He walks closer to the car and pats it on the hood, ducking slightly to look at the undercarriage. “I’m shocked you made it down here in this. This road isn’t really even an actual road, more of a dirt path that people traveled on enough to wear out a groove.”

“I noticed,” I say sharply. 

My gaze catches on a strange teal shimmer before I’m once again in a time that feels different from my own. One second, Partick and the vehicles are in front of me; then the next, they’re gone, replaced by a jeering crowd carrying… pitchforks and torches? They’re surrounding a bundle of wood in the middle of the clearing, and I find myself walking closer, trying to see what they’re doing. 

When I reach a gap in the jostling group, I gasp. 

The woman I saw earlier, who was dressed like a pilgrim, is there. She’s tied to a wood post with a defiant glare on her face. Blood runs in rivulets from where she’s been jabbed with the pitchforks even as flames lick along the edges of the pyre. 

“Witch! Witch! Witch!” The yelling chant gets louder with every second, and soon she’s enveloped entirely in the fire. 

But somehow her eyes are burning through me, making me feel as if I am the one in her place. Her lips move, and in that moment, everything else becomes deathly silent. 

“Find your home, Morrigan. Take claim of your heritage and magic. Do not let the evil win!”

With a long, wailing scream, she’s gone, and I’m kneeling weakly in the middle of the dead field. Patrick’s arms are holding me as I rock back and forth, and calming words flow from his mouth, a low murmur beneath the high-pitched screams. 

It takes me a few minutes to realize that the screaming is coming from me. 

***

We’re sitting at a booth in the diner by the highway turnoff that I’d passed this morning, though it feels like a lifetime ago. 

I still can’t wrap my head around how empty this place is. I had felt that pull to keep going when GPS told me to exit the highway when I was driving by, otherwise it would’ve just been a blip in the road that passed by without notice. There’s a couple cars gassing up before hitting the road again, but otherwise I can count on one hand how many people I’ve seen since starting my travels.

After the incident, Patrick bundled me and Quoth into his truck, getting us back to the highway on the little dirt trail in about half the time I’d driven it. 

Now, with a warm coffee cradled in my palms and the relaxing atmosphere of the diner at my back, the shakes are finally beginning to subside. 

“Are you feeling any better?” Patrick asks. He’s halfway through a thick stack of blueberry pancakes drowned in syrup while feeding the occasional bite to Quoth, kindly leaving me to my own thoughts until I’ve settled. “I’m not exactly sure what happened back there, but you were pretty upset.”

My eyes stay on the coffee, swirling it around in a gentle circle. “I think so?” At least, I’m not watching someone get murdered in front of my eyes right now. “I’ve never seen anything like that before. It was… awful.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but my sister always says I’m a great listener.” He leans forward and smiles softly at me. “You’re not from around here, so you don’t know the area or its history. Everyone always avoids Spells Hollow because of the curse. Strange things always seem to happen there. I’m glad I followed my instincts and found you, I usually avoid it as much as the next guy.” His warm palm nudges the side of my knee, grounding me amidst the turmoil bubbling just under the surface. 

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” I confess. “There were people yelling ‘witch’ with the whole torch and pitchfork show, and this woman…” My voice wavers. It feels like her eyes are still boring into my soul, even though that accursed field is a few miles away. “She was dressed like a pilgrim, and they lit her on fire. It felt like they were having a fucking celebration after she died, like murdering her was a happy occasion.”

My fingers sting and I release my white-knuckled grip on the coffee cup, forcing my hands to pick at lint on my jeans instead. Unless I’m carefully restoring an old book, my hands are always picking at things. Stress makes it twice as bad as usual.

Patrick is silent for a moment, his forehead creasing while he worries his lip between his teeth. Since he’s not running for the hills, I can only guess he doesn’t think I’m insane. “I hate to bring this up, after everything that’s happened, but… Has this ever happened to you before? Seeing people die or anything like that, I mean.” He catches my hand as he speaks, rubbing gentle circles across the top of it. 

“Yes.”

It comes out barely more than a whisper, but he hears it if the sudden tightening of his grip is anything to go by. 

Nothing compares to the horror of watching the pilgrim woman burn to death, but when I was a girl, I often saw people dying in my dreams. Strange people, people I’d never seen before, would fall over from heart attacks or slowly drift away, surrounded by loved ones. 

I was in my late teens before the first bloody death happened, this one a young man who had been mugged and beaten. After that, the dreams became more frequent. That’s when my love of gemstones began, especially in regards to the healing powers of azurite, which had kept such nightmares away until a few months ago. 

Patrick sighs, leaning forward onto his elbows. His blue eyes bore into mine, and the calmness in them keeps me from completely freaking out. An impressive feat, considering the next words out of his mouth. 

“Well, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but I think you’re a witch, Morrigan.”

“Awitch?!” I laugh. “There’s no way. That stuff isn’t real.” I shake my head, then meet Patrick’s gaze. His eyes hold mine, no hint of amusement in them. I blanch. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” he answers, looking around the empty diner. “And yes, it seems like fantasy because we do a good job hiding our existence. You know how well it worked out for our kind back in the 1600s.” He shrugs. “But I don’t think we have to worry about being overheard here.

“My family is from a line of warlocks. Our magic is passed through the men instead of the women. The two covens used to be aware of each other, helping when needed, but we mostly just stayed out of each other’s way. They were hoping to stay undetected. 

“One day my great-, great-, great-, however many greats uncle came to ask a favor of the high priestess. As he approached, he felt tingles rush down his spine like he didn’t belong there, but it made no sense. He’d been here before and that hadn’t happened in the past. He pushed through and found the town a lot like you saw it today. Destroyed. Deserted. Dead. 

“He could sense dark magic lingering, so he made it our family’s mission to stay close enough to help keep an eye on the area. Make sure the darkness doesn’t spread and infect anywhere else. 

“It used to be a growing town, full of life and energy, but since that day, few have come back. I’m sure you felt the shivers when you got here. Everyone I talk to says the same thing. It’s a gut instinct that you don’t belong and need to get out as quick as you can. Few care enough to fight the feeling.”

I shake my head slowly. “This can’t be happening,” I mutter. “I must be having a mental breakdown. Maybe I just need more sleep.” Louder, I add, “Nope. I felt drawn to explore this place, not run from it, so see, you can’t be right.”

“That’s part of what makes me so sure that you are descended from one of the founding families. That and the fact that the houses are still standing. There’s no other reason for why you would want to be here.” He reaches out to pat my hand, but I draw back. 

“Or I just like history,” I answer. “And this place hasn’t been thoroughly examined yet to learn what we can from the past.”

“Hmmm, well either way, if you want, we can go look at the house that I believe the O’Byrnes lived in. Maybe you can find something about your family’s past there, or worst case, you can learn more about the town,” Patrick suggests. 

“I did come all the way out here…” I start. “And it would be a waste to go home empty-handed… And I could find some more journals or diaries to add to the archives… Okay. I guess it won’t hurt anything to go back up there and do some exploring.” I turn, searching for my wallet to pay for my drink. “Shit! I think I left my wallet in my car.” 

Patrick pulls his wallet from his pocket and drops some money on the table. “No worries. I’ve got it.” 

He calls a farewell to the workers in the back before leading me out of the diner and back to his truck. 

We bounce our way back up to the road. It’s quiet. My mind is spinning with all that Patrick has told me. I don’t want to believe it, but the longer his words circle in my brain, the more right they feel. If what he said is true, that would explain the weird dreams. And all the times I was talking to another kid as a child, but no one else could see them. Those were hard days. All the kids in my class stopped talking to me and started calling me weird. I learned to escape into books and found my passion for history. 

The lack of movement brought me back to the present. Blinking, I shake my head, clearing my past away. 

Patrick opens his door and steps out. I follow, letting my eyes drift around the circle. The houses stand in various states of disrepair. Some look almost livable, while others look like a strong breeze will blow them down. 

“Do you know which house belonged to whom?” I ask as Quoth lands on my shoulder. 

“Some are easier to tell than others,” Patrick answers. “The crypts behind the houses have some names. Those have been the most helpful, but we haven’t gone inside many houses. It seemed almost disrespectful of the families.” 

I nod. “I get it. Some of my work feels like you’re invading someone’s personal thoughts. Especially with the diaries and journals, but that’s also where we get some of the best information.”

“If I had to guess, I would say the O’Byrne house is”—he spins, then points across the space—“that one.” 

“What makes you think that?” I ask. 

“There’s a large O formed by the door handles, but I could be wrong.” He shrugs. 

“Guess there’s one way to find out,” I say, walking toward the green space. 

I shudder, remembering the lady being burned from the last time I stepped onto the grass, then change my path to follow the road around. 

We pick our way up to a large stone house. Wading through waist-high weeds, we pass through what looked to be a fence once upon a time, although most of the planks are scattered on the ground, like a big storm came through. 

Reaching the front door, I can’t help but be impressed. The door is taller than eight feet and towers above us. The knob is as Patrick described: a black stone carved into an O. The front of the house has two floors of windows, and a massive chimney sticks out of the roof. 

I take a deep breath. I have this deep-seated feeling that no matter what is behind this door, my life will change after this moment. Reaching out, I grab the knob. The stone is warm in my hand, which is odd, since the sun hasn’t made it to the front of the house yet. The knob sticks when I first twist it but gives in after a few firm twists, then the door swings open with a screech that startles Quoth off my shoulder. He flies over the house toward the back to explore while we investigate inside.

The inside is too dark to see anything. I scramble into my pocket and pull out my phone, turning on the flashlight as Patrick does the same. 

“This place feels haunted,” he whispers. “It’s like something heavy is sitting on me.”

“Hmmm… I don’t get that feeling at all. It’s almost like something is drawing me inside. Like it wants me here.” 

I walk forward, leaving footprints in the thick layer of dust. Patrick follows me, shivering slightly. Swinging my phone from side to side, I see a fireplace off to the right. Turning, I make my way into the room, and my light catches on several candles sitting on the mantle. Picking one up, I search for a lighter, with no luck. 

“Do you happen to have a lighter?” I ask Patrick.

“Out in the truck, but there should be something around here,” he says, shining his light up and down the mantle. “Ah, here.” He picks up a piece of metal that looks similar to a horseshoe and a large, round stone. 

He walks over to the candle and strikes the objects together, creating a spark. After a few times, the candle catches. 

We light another long-tapered candle and put our phones back in our pockets. Best to save the batteries if we can. 

“Now maybe we will find something that tells us who lived here,” I say, turning to explore the space further. “Houses this nice should have a library or office somewhere in it.” 

We cross the room to a back door, passing a piano and a few dusty couches on our way. We enter a large dining room with a long table surrounded by benches. I could almost picture the dinners for the family and friends around this table, celebrating good news or just spending time together. 

A woman in a plain brown dress enters the room, head down and hands clasped. She walks quickly to the corner before turning and facing into the room. 

“Hello?” I say quietly, not wanting to startle her. She doesn’t react. “Miss?”

Patrick gently touches my arm. “Who are you talking to?” 

I turn to look at him. “The lady who just walked in.” I look down at the floor and notice the lack of footprints from the door she came through. “Oh God, you can’t see her, can you?”

“No,” he answers. “It’s just us in here. Why? Who do you see?”

“I’m not sure,” I answer. I explain to him what she’s wearing and how she’s behaving. She stands still as a statue in the corner. 

“She may have been a maid for the family. They were often told to be seen but not heard during that time,” he offers. 

“Yeah, that would make sense,” I say. “But why is she still here?”

“I have no idea. Should we continue?” 

I agree, and we make our way through the back doorway, entering a sprawling room that I think would have been the kitchen. Cabinets and counters line most of the room with metal pots and pans lying around. A large fireplace takes up the fourth wall. Black metal hooks are spread inside the fireplace to hang the pots.

“It’s like being in a museum,” I whisper, not wanting to disrupt the peace of the place. “This is awesome!”

Patrick snorts a laugh, opening the drawers and cabinets around the room. We find sealed jars of fruits, vegetables, and what appears to be dried meats. While interesting, none of it tells us who lived here. 

We move through to a room with a large desk in the middle of the room. Empty bookshelves line two walls, and a large window lets the sunlight in, highlighting a layer of dust at least an inch thick on the desktop. 

I let out a heavy breath. “If something was here, I bet it was in this room, but it seems like we are too late.” I drag the chair out from under the desk and slouch into it. 

“We shouldn’t give up yet,” Patrick says, pointing to the stairs. “There’s another floor to check. We may still find something.” 

I try to muster a smile but can’t shake the feeling of defeat. The feeling that I needed to be here is fading and heaviness sits on my shoulders. 

“Okay, let’s go.” I push myself up, my knee knocking into the side of the desk. Something drops into my lap with a thump. “What the hell?” I lift out a book bound in black leather. I blow some of the dust off the desktop, trying to clear a spot to examine my new find. Patrick and I both sneeze several times before regaining control. 

Pulling the candle closer to the cover, I see the gold etching of a skull lying on roses. Underneath in faded letters are the words O’Byrne Family Grimoire. 

“I guess we know it’s the right house,” I say. “But what’s a grimoire?”

Patrick holds his hand out, hovering it over the book before pulling it back. “A grimoire is a family’s spell book. Each family had their own to pass down spells, potions, and knowledge to future generations. It is considered a terrible violation to read another family’s book if anyone from the family still exists. I wonder how it survived all this time?” His voice is filled with awe. “It looks like everything else was cleared out a while ago.”

“Besides being hidden, it almost feels warm. Like it recognizes me.” I catch Patrick’s confused gaze. “I know it sounds stupid, but it almost feels like it was waiting for me.”

Patrick places his hand on my shoulder and gives a light squeeze. “It doesn’t sound stupid, and you might be on to something. The book may have been spelled to be hidden until someone from the family came for it. That would explain how it was missed all this time.”

I nod a little, gently grabbing the edge of the cover and lifting. As the book opens, a loud shriek from deeper into the house makes me jump. 

“What was that?” I whisper-scream.

“What was what?” asks Patrick.

“Someone screamed. They sounded like they were in pain. How could someone sneak into the house without us hearing them?” The words tumble out in a jumbled mess. 

“I didn’t hear anything,” Patrick says, lifting his candle higher and looking into the darkness beyond this room. Glancing back at me, his face softens. “But we can go check just to be sure.”

I stand, tucking the book under my arm and pick up my candle. “Yes, whoever it is. They need our help. We have to do something.”

Patrick and I creep slowly into the hallway. Well, I creep and he kinda just walks behind me. I couldn’t tell where the scream came from, and every second feels like an hour as we wander around the first floor of the house, seeing nothing. The woman is gone from the dining room even. 

“Well, that leaves the second floor and out the back,” Patrick says calmly, his steadiness helping me not freak out as much. “How about we go upstairs while we’re inside? I’ll go first.” 

I shake my head, determined to not be a dead weight, and take a step towards the stairs. A tall, severe woman who looks like she belongs in an 1800s schoolhouse with a ruler in hand appears about halfway down the steps. I startle and grab the railing. She smiles, gesturing for me to come closer, her mouth opening and closing like she’s trying to talk to me, yet no sound escapes beyond a slight rasping wheeze. 

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you,” I tell her apologetically, shuddering when her face suddenly changes into a hollow sort of stare. I shuffle back a few steps until I can feel Patrick pressed against my back, and his warmth gives me comfort. 

“What happened? Is something wrong?” Patrick whispers in my ear as his arms wrap around me, his muscles tense like he’s ready to yank me out of the way at any second, even though he has no idea what the danger is. 

“There’s a woman on the stairs. She was trying to talk to me, but now…” A chill runs down my spine. “I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like she’s no longer the one staring back at me.” 

The woman floats down the stairs, getting closer to us, then beckons at me to follow her up. When I don’t move, she gestures faster, her movements turning erratic when I don’t immediately do as she wants. Her mouth drops open with a snarl and a glint comes into her hollow eyes. 

“How about we go outside first?” Patrick murmurs when I take a startled step into him.

His hand glides to the small of my back, turning me, then he pushes me towards the kitchen. We’d found a door to the backyard there while searching for the source of the scream, and none too soon, we were breathing in the fresh evening air. 

“Can you still see her?” Patrick asks, running his hands in comforting circles up and down my arms. 

I scan the grounds around us, shaking my head. “No, not anywhere he—AAAAAH!” 

The woman suddenly appears halfway through the door we exited. She’s leaning forward, still beckoning me closer, but now she no longer seems to be attempting to make words. Instead, I can almost imagine hearing snarls as her face twists in anger. 

“Oh my goodness.” I place a hand over my pounding heart, trying to calm it down. “She’s there in the doorway, but she seems stuck, almost like she’s tied to the house?”

“That’s quite possible.” Patrick nods, leading us farther away from the ghost in the door. We’re crunching through dead earth, what looks like it might have once been a garden. “My grandmother always said that the dead have their own morals and priorities, and you can’t trust that an encounter with one won’t end with a broken neck at the bottom of some stairs. Not all ghosts are bad, mind you. But sometimes the evil things that happened to them can twist their minds, and they get lost in a spiral of agony, taking it out on anyone they see. Grandmother always believed that they could be healed and thus find their way to the afterlife, but it’s only a theory.”

The ground shifts in front of me, transporting me to a place with fresh, vibrant vegetables growing under my feet, and birds chirping gayly and children’s laughter ringing in the air from somewhere unseen. I turn, trying to figure out where I am. The house, my ancestors’ house, is standing there, tall and proud. 

The door opens, and a woman in pilgrim’s clothing steps out, a huge smile on her face as she walks towards me with a basket. “Edith, make sure the children learn their alphabet before they come out to play!” she calls over her shoulder before bending to pick ripe produce. 

I shift, and she notices me, glancing up in confusion. 

“Oh, hello there, strange friend. Who might you be?”

I open my mouth to reply, and the shriek from earlier splits the air, coming from somewhere in the house. The lady and I look up, watching in horror as something red coats the upstairs windows moments before a small body is thrown through it. The woman screams and rushes to it, but my attention stays on the window, on the woman from earlier—this time in another pilgrim-style dress—standing there. She’s sobbing, fighting against some unseen force even as her hand raises and turns a pistol towards her head. The gun shot follows a moment later, and I squeeze my eyes shut, falling to my knees, then empty my stomach contents onto dead earth. 

“Are you okay, Morrigan?” Patrick whispers, holding me tightly to him. “You just suddenly went blank and weren’t responding. Did you see something again?” 

I groan, pressing a hand against my suddenly aching head. I try to get to my feet and stumble, grateful Patrick is there to steady me. “Yeah. It was horrible.” I press my lips together, nausea swirling as I try to make sense of what happened. “There were multiple deaths. Bloody deaths. The lady from the stairs was… I don’t know, being controlled or something?” 

I wince, recalling that horrible moment before the shot. “She was staring at me as she… as she…” I swallow the words, too disturbed to say them out loud. “I think she was still trying to tell me something. She kept motioning towards that dead tree on the edge of the lawn, and at the crypts.”

Patrick watches me with concern, keeping me bundled under his arm. “Are you up to checking it out? It’s understandable if you aren’t. I can take you back to my truck and look around a bit more if you need a break.”

I shake my head, forcing myself to dig deep and find some strength. “No, I need to do this. For those poor people.” I shudder again. “Whatever happened, the evil is still corrupting this land, making all these ghosts suffer. I can’t just leave them be if there’s a way I can help them.” 

“Hey.” He turns me to face him, cradling my face between his large palms, and a wave of security washes over me at his touch. “Take a deep breath. You won’t be able to help the ghosts if you don’t take care of yourself first.” He breathes in, waiting for me to follow before releasing it, then he repeats that pattern a few times until I calm down slightly. “Good. I can’t begin to understand what it must be like to see the things you are seeing. Just remember that you aren’t alone in this. You can rely on me.” 

I nod. “I know. You’re the only reason I made it through that house. I promise, if I need you, I will ask.”

“Good.” Patrick presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Now let’s go see what that ghost was trying to tell you. Creepy old tree or creepier old crypts first?”

I chuckle, some of the tension leaving me from his teasing. “How about we have the big, strong man check out the crypts while little old me goes to the tree? If something happens, we shout, and the other comes running.” 

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to split up? That never works in horror flicks.” His eyes search mine. “Okay. If you need me, I’ll be there in a flash.” 

I swallow hard and nod. I can do this.

The crunch of long-dead weeds is the only sound as we part. I make a beeline for the tree, a pit forming in my stomach as I recall how big and welcoming it had been in the past. Now it is just an old hunk of rotting wood, and most of it is destroyed. 

Quoth doesn’t seem to mind that it's dead as he swoops onto it at my approach, cawing out a hello before preening his feathers. “Hey Quoth. Enjoying the fresh air?” He cocks his head and croaks out an answer, then flies off towards the crypt and Patrick.

It looks like any old tree, and I wonder why the ghost wants me to check it out. Maybe this is one of those ‘ghosts have their own priority’ things Patrick was talking about, but the fear and desperation on her face as she died made me believe that isn’t the truth. 

“Maybe it’ll just drop into my lap like the grimoire,” I mutter, circling the base as I contemplate my choices. Touching the tree does nothing and I can’t see anything while circling it. 

A strange energy hums when I pass a specific area, and I pause, then circle again to make sure. I step on a large chunk of root, clambering up until I can see into the hollow center. 

At first, I see nothing beyond darkness. With a groan, I wiggle around until I can pull my phone from my back pocket, balancing on my stomach, with my feet flailing outside the tree. Finally getting it free, I flick the flashlight back on and shine it in. The light catches on something turquoise and shiny. I reach for it, but my arm is too short by a couple of inches. 

I wiggle farther in with an irritated growl, still not able to reach it. 

“Come on,” I whisper, straining just. A. Little. Farther… A face pops through the tree opposite me with a giggle, a small child staring up at me through wide, innocent eyes. “Aah!” My eyes open wide as I scream, my feet swinging up as my body pitches into the hollow core. Windmilling my arms, I manage to catch myself before I get stuck face-first in the tree and I lift myself up, a couple inches away from the ghost’s face. 

The child reaches out, sending a shiver through me as he tries to touch me but fails. His hand just passes through me. He frowns down at his hand, waving it back and forth a few times before he focuses on the gem below me. “Shiny?” he asks, looking back up at me.

“Yes, yes! I need to get the shiny,” I say with forced cheer, working to keep the tremble out of it. I don’t want to freak out on this little boy. 

He tilts his head, reminding me of Quoth when he’s trying to figure out how to trick me into giving him more treats. Then the boy reaches down and closes his fist around the object. As soon as his skin connects with it, it glows, a bright green beam that instantly makes me feel refreshed, erasing my exhaustion. The boy lifts it, then holds it out for me to take.

“What? How are you doing that?” I whisper, thinking back to all the ghosts who haven’t been able to touch anything. 

He grins widely, releasing the small turquoise gem into my palm. He begins to fade away. “Look deep inside of yourself, Morrigan. You’re an O’Byrne. The magic flows through you like all of us before you. Open your mind. Trust it to guide you. Trust yourself and save us before the evil wins.” The voice feels ancient, full of pain and suffering and not at all like when the child spoke before. It resonates through my soul; wrapping around me like a mother’s hug before it fades off as the boy disappears completely, leaving me dangling awkwardly from the dead tree with a glowing gem in my hand. 

“Morrigan!” Patrick’s shout is shaky and high-pitched, the sound strained like he’s struggling to form words. 

It’s the first time I’ve heard him be anything aside from calm, and I nearly face-plant into the tree from the second heart-attack inducing surprise in thirty minutes. With my amazing gymnastic skills, also known as How-to-Capture-a-Troublemaker-Bird 101, I shimmy around until I can hop out of the tree, taking off at a sprint for the crypt. 

My feet slow as I reach the corner of the small wooden building that houses the crypt entrance, my palms sweating the nearer I get to where Patrick’s shout came. An oppressive, dark cloud hangs over the ground, thick and choking, and for the first time I understand what Patrick meant about the feeling of not belonging. I fight to step forward—closer to where Patrick needs me—while every instinct screams at me to run far, far away. 

My stomach in my throat I creep closer, my shoulders hunching more with every step I take. “Patrick?” I hiss quietly. “Where did you go?” 

“Morrigan! Over here!” he calls from my right, and I spin and dart in that direction with an eep. “Watch out for those vines!” Patrick shouts just as I trip over the tangle of brown strands covering the ground in a five-foot section out from the crypt and land on my ass. “I think they’re cursed. They’re trying to bury me in the crypt.”

“They’re trying to WHAT!?” I screech, crawling back from the apparently evil things. “I didn’t sign up for some fucked-up plants-versus-humans game.” 

Patrick chuckles, his voice closer now. “Just come help me out of here, please. They seem to be avoiding you. Must be that special O’Byrne blood.”

I get to my feet and turn to find him, trying to see through the clouds surrounding me. Finally, it clears for a moment and I can make out a mass of vines writhing against one of the walls of the crypt. Patrick’s head becomes visible through the chaos for just a moment, then disappears again. His body sinks lower and lower into the ground with every pass of the vines. I sprint over and shove my hands into the vines without thinking, grabbing the ones holding him hostage and ripping them from his body. The vines shiver and writhe away underneath the wooden building, leaving Patrick muddy and half-buried in the ground. 

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?” I gasp, brushing dirt and dead leaves off his face. “Let me get you out of there.” I glance around. What can I use to free him? I spot a black backpack sitting on the ground a few feet away, a foldable shovel tied to the side. I’m not sure how a backpack would get all the way out here and be in such great shape, but I’m not about to complain. With a triumphant shout, I grab it, setting the gem from the tree at the doorway to the crypt so I won’t lose it, and get to digging. 

“Not to rush you or anything, but I can’t move my hands,” Patrick teases me, his voice once again back to the calm tone I’ve become accustomed to. “The vines came out of nowhere once I approached the crypt. I’m not sure if it’s a protection spell gone wrong or some side effect of the dark magic attack.” 

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t bury you completely. I’m sorry I didn’t get here before you were in the ground. I got a little stuck in the tree.” I sink the shovel into the ground. The earth is harder than I expect after how easily Partick was buried. It takes a bit of effort, but soon I’ve dug out enough to pull him free. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he pants, lying back with a laugh as he stares up at me. “You sure know how to make a person feel out of shape. I haven’t run this much since I was a kid!” After a moment, he sits up, turning to me excitedly. “Oh yeah, the tree! Did you find anything?” 

I glance around, remembering that I set the gem by the crypt. It’s not glowing anymore, and now that I have a second to study it, I can see that it was a necklace at one point in time, the chain gone with time but the rest of it is still in one piece. 

“Yeah, this gem was in the middle of the tree. I was struggling to reach it, then a ghost boy handed it to me.” I frown as I recall how it began to glow when the boy touched it, then bend to pick it up. 

My fingers close around the gem as a burst of wind hits me in the cheek and I lose my balance. Quoth, a couple of vines proudly dangling from his talons, narrowly avoids whacking into me as he dive-bombs Patrick and I. I catch myself on the crypt’s door right before I fall face first into a pile of dead leaves. “Whew! That was close. Good work with the vines, Quoth.” I giggle, righting myself and pushing away thoughts of how Patrick almost ended up inside there. “Here’s what I—” 

A rumble interrupts my sentence. Teal-colored beams of light explode from my body, hitting the door of the crypt, then rushing across the outside of the building. At first it seems like nothing changes, but then… 

The dead leaves turn to dust, and in their place, sprouts of green grass appear, filling a small circle around where we stand. The crypt itself changes, too. The rotting wood and centuries of dirt and grim fade away until it looks brand new, with fresh pine plank carefully fitted together and gentle green vines dance playfully up the sides.

“Are you seeing this?” I whisper to Patrick, backing away from the crypt with wide eyes. “What happened?”

“I think you did this,” he says in awe. The teal light dances up his legs, swirling around his body before it disperses completely, leaving him healed and the small circle of earth around us green and bursting with life. “I think you tapped into the gem and used it to jumpstart your powers.”

“That’s not possible.” I shake my head, overwhelmed by everything. “I’m just somebody who sees ghosts and likes history. Not some cool person with superpowers.” 

Patrick chuckles. “Well, I thought you were cool even when you just saw ghosts, so it’s not a surprise to me.” He holds out a hand with a wink. “Now let’s check out the dead people, my heroine.” 

We walk to the entrance and slowly push open the door. 

“Hi! I didn’t think anyone would find me in here!”

Ijerk back, bumping into Patrick. His wide eyes meet mine. 

“Did you hear that, too?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “A voice coming out of a tomb was not what I expected when we opened the doors.”

“I kind of did.” I shrug. “I just didn’t expect you to hear it, too.”

He snorts, then we both creep forward. 

“Hello,” I call into the darkness. “Is anyone in here?”

“Yes! Yes! I’m here!” calls a deep voice. “Thank you for finding me!” 

I swing my gaze around before spotting a man leaning limply against the wall. His long brown hair is tangled around his face like it hasn’t seen a brush in days. His fingers scramble against the walls, finally catching on one of the plaques, and he slowly pulls his way upright. 

“I thought I’d be here forever,” he says, stumbling forward. “But where are my manners? I’m Josh.” He holds out his hand. 

“Hey, Josh. I’m Patrick.” Patrick introduces himself first, grasping Josh’s hand in a crushing grip.  

When I reach out to shake his hand, he grasps my hand and brings it up to his mouth, brushing his lips across my knuckles. I blush and pull my hand back. Something inside me I didn’t realize was restless settles at the contact. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Morrigan.”

“I’d love to hear how you got in here, but maybe we should go back outside,” Patrick suggests. “This place gives me a bad feeling.”

“Yeah,” Josh agrees. “If we get stuck again, who knows how long it’ll take someone to find us?” 

We only make it a few steps before Josh stumbles, almost face-planting into the ground. Patrick jumps back, catching him and wrapping Josh’s arm over his shoulder, supporting the other man’s weight as we exit back onto the lawn. 

Josh hisses and throws a hand up, shading his eyes from the sun. 

With an excited caw, Quoth swoops down from somewhere above us, landing on my shoulder to nose his beak against my cheek. “Ah, yes. Quoth, this is Josh. Josh, this is Quoth, my feathered companion.” Quoth caws again in greeting as I finish speaking.

“What happened out here?” Josh asks. “When I found this place, it was nothing but dead weeds and rotting leaves. But now… there’s grass. Wait, what day is it?”

“It’s Friday,” I answer. 

“August 10th,” Patrick adds. 

“What the hell?!” Josh murmurs, shaking his head.

“Why?” I ask him. “When did you come up here?” 

He pauses, scratching his head. “I think a week or two ago. However long it took me to eat through my snacks in my fanny pack.” 

“What happened?” Patrick asks. 

“I… I don’t know,” Josh answers. 

“Just tell us what you do remember,” I coax. 

“I had heard stories of this place,” Josh starts. “I heard there was an abandoned town back in the woods. Somewhere no one had ventured in years. Even other thrill seekers and dark tourists stay away. They try. I’ve read the message boards. They come out here, visit the diner, maybe spend the night at the motel, but most of them can’t shake the feeling of being unwanted long enough to make it through the night. 

“A waste of money, most of them called it. Nothing to see and not worth the trip. A complete one-eighty from the energy in the planning for the adventure. Every time Spells Hollow showed up on a message board or in a video, I felt drawn to it. Like something was here for me. Like I had to come here. 

“I spent night after night when I got home from work combing through everything I could find online, hoping that I could find a hint of what was waiting for me here, but to no avail. After pretty much not sleeping for a few weeks, I finally decided the only way to solve it was to do what the rest of them couldn’t. I had to go to Spells Hollow and find the abandoned town.” He shrugs like this is the obvious answer to anyone in that situation. “So I packed a bag and hit the road.” 

“When I reached the diner, I stopped in and grabbed a bite to eat. The workers laughed when I told them I had to get up here. Said something about no one goes back there, not even them. I just nodded along and listened to all the stories of people leaving in the middle of the night because they heard something or felt like they were being watched. The person who left the quickest didn’t even last ten minutes in his room before throwing the room key back on the desk and hightailing it up the road. 

“The whole time I was in there, it was like something was at war within me. Part of me wanted to flee the area, take everyone’s advice, and get the hell out of dodge. The other part of me knew something was waiting for me here that I needed to find. So I checked into a room at the motel, grabbed my backpack, and started hiking into the woods.”

“Why didn’t you come up the road?” asks Patrick.

Josh cocks his head to the side. “What road?”

Patrick’s eyes light with laughter he fights to hold back. “The one that we came in on. It’s been here since the horse and buggy days. A bit overgrown and run down, but it would have been easier on foot than bushwhacking through the woods. Even easier in a car, although it still takes a while to get all the way back here.”

“No one mentioned a road,” Josh mumbles. 

“Anyway…” I interrupt. “What happened next?”

Josh nods, pulling the black backpack I’d found the shovel on earlier closer and pulling out a protein bar. He takes a bite before continuing. “Mmmm…” He moans, and heat blooms low in my belly imagining other ways to get him to make that sound. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was. Anyway, it took a long time to hike up here, but eventually the woods opened up to this circle of houses. It was weird, almost like stepping out into a time capsule.”

“Isn’t it awesome!” I gush. 

“I guess,” Josh answers.

“It is,” Patrick nods to me. “There are so few places you can see how life was. Anyway, what happened once you were here?”

“I pulled out my phone and started recording and taking pictures. I thought I could go viral. No one had made it this far, or at least no one had shared that they made it this far. I wanted to explore all the houses, but the closer I got to the first few, the harder it was to breathe. It was like something dark and heavy was sitting on me, trying to make sure I knew I wasn’t wanted. At least at that place. I finally was able to move closer to one of the houses.” He waves his hand in the direction of the O’Byrne manor. “When I reached the door, the knob was icy cold and wouldn’t budge. 

“I thought a house that big would have to have a back door or a side door or some other way to get inside, so I kept going. If I’ve learned anything from those forums, it’s that these old buildings always have a way inside without having to break in.”

“But you didn’t,” I state. “How did you end up back here?”

“When I reached the backyard, the house didn’t seem as important. Like I knew I wanted to go inside, but that thing inside seemed to draw me farther out. As I got closer, I could have sworn I saw a green light coming from the tree and made my way toward it, but before I could reach the tree, I tripped. It was the weirdest thing. There was nothing between me and the tree when I started walking, but then there were all these vines snaking around my feet. Before I could get up, I was sliding across the ground. It was like the vines came to life. I know I sound nuts—”

“Before a few minutes ago, maybe, but now not so much,” I cut him off, sharing a look with Patrick. “We saw the vines in action,” I add. 

Josh nods, then continues, “I tried to fight against them, but there was nothing to grab on to and a vine had wrapped around my middle so I couldn’t get anything out of my backpack. They pulled me over to this building and into the ground. 

“It was dark in there and quiet. Well, part of the time… Other times it was like I could hear screams, moans, cries… My backpack disappeared”—he looks at it in the grass—“but I guess it got left out here.” He shrugs. “But it was almost like time stood still while I was in there.. I wasn’t hungry or thirsty. It was almost like being in stasis, but I was awake for part of it. Every time I slept, it was harder and harder to wake up. Almost like something was draining me, like it wanted to keep me there. But now you’ve found me, and I never have to go back in there again. And I can post the pictures of the houses and let everyone see it so they don’t have to come up here and get stuck.”

Reaching in his pocket, he pulls out his phone unlocking it. “What the hell?” he yells, swiping furiously. 

“What’s wrong?” I ask, moving closer. My eyes land on a black screen.

“They’re gone!” Josh shouts, showing me black photo after black photo. “All the pictures I took of this place are just black! Not one of them turned out! How that could happen?!”

“It’s like this place doesn’t want to be found,” Patrick says. “The feeling of being unwelcome, the buildings stuck in time… The rumor is this place was cursed long ago. Maybe being unknown is part of the curse.” He shrugs. “That’s probably why no other explorers make it past the main road.”

“But I made it,” Josh says, snapping a new picture of the O’Byrne house, which also shows up black when he checks it. “It can’t be cursed to keep people out if it let me come here.”

“It could if you are part of this,” Patrick tells him.

“Part of what?” Josh asks.

“The curse or breaking the curse somehow,” Patrick states.

“Can a curse be that… smart?” I ask, stumbling over the last word. “Or sentient?”

Patrick snickers. “You two have a lot to learn. Curses can be a lot of things, depending on the strength of who cast them and the purpose behind them.” He looks around the dead and deserted yard. “This one would have been cast by someone of great power for the effects to still be felt hundreds of years later.” He turns to look at me. “Do you still have the grimoire you found?”

I nod, reaching around and pulling it out of my waistband. It feels heavier than when I first found it. 

Quoth flies off my shoulder and onto the ground, thoroughly disgusted with all my movement. He hunts for insects while hopping around our feet, never straying too far away. 

“Then I think it is time we get to work on reading it and learning what we can about this curse, but maybe not right here. We have disturbed the dead enough for one day.” Patrick sweeps his hand back toward the house. 

Josh grabs his backpack as I close the door on the crypt. With each step I take, I notice the grass turning green for a moment before fading back to a dry, dead brown. 

We’re back in the diner after another long and bouncy ride over the rough road. Josh kept up a constant chatter the whole way, and it was surprisingly relaxing. Usually I prefer silence, but these two men with me seem to be breaking me out of my shell somehow. Patrick’s steady, down-to-earth attitude and Josh’s energetic outlook on life fill a gap inside that I didn’t even know was there before they came along. 

George would be pleased. He’s always told me that someday I’ll meet someone who will pull my nose out of books. I never really believed him, but he fell in love at first sight with his wife, so maybe it really does happen. 

Josh is sitting across the booth from me, while Patrick’s thigh is flush with my own. I’m struggling to concentrate on the grimoire and not on his warmth or Josh’s footsie as he shovels down an order of blueberry pancakes, breakfast burrito, hash browns, and five slices of bacon. My hips could never. 

“Mrph muf maow?” Josh asks around a mouthful of eggs, sausage, and tortillas. Quoth’s beady  eyes follow his every movement, ready to snatch up every little crumb that Josh dares to drop. 

Patrick chuckles, twining his fingers in my hair. “We read and learn as much about the witches and Spells Hollow as we can. Maybe we’ll be able to figure out why we’re all being drawn in. And how to stop those vines from grabbing people to bury them alive.” 

“I’m hoping I can learn more about this.” I play with the necklace that’s now hanging against my neck, courtesy of a piece of string Patrick found in his truck. Even though it’s touching my skin, it isn’t glowing. It hasn’t since the crypt got fixed up. I’m worried I broke it, but is it even something that can be broken? I have so many questions cropping up and not nearly enough answers. 

Josh swallows his mouthful and shoots me a big smile. “Oh, I might know someone who can help us with that. A pal in the city—he’s a lawyer—studies precious stones in his spare time. He might have an idea about what that is. I’ll give him a call.” 

“That would be great, thank you!” I touch his hand before I think better of it. He flips his palm over, clasping my fingers between his. “I hope he’ll know what it is. I’m not sure how magic stones rank with regular old precious stones.” 

“He’s really smart and won’t quit. If anyone can figure it out, it’ll be Matty,” Josh reassures me with a wink. He digs around in his backpack before producing some cash to toss onto the table in front of us. “Let me give him a call and see if he has time for a meeting tomorrow. We can head to the city in the morning after getting some rest.”

Patrick clears his throat, and Josh flushes, looking down at the table as he rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry, here I am making all the plans, like I’m back at the fire station. If either of you have other priorities, I completely understand.” 

Patrick chuckles warmly. “I was just going to say that sounds like a wonderful plan. I’ll get a room at the motel tonight so I can be close in case anything happens.” This, he directs to me, following me out of the booth as we exit the diner into the brisk summer evening. 

It’s dark out tonight, and I shudder as I watch a young girl walk to the middle of the overpass. She climbs onto the wall, wobbles for a moment, then swan dives off. Patrick squeezes my hand, grounding me even as my pulse sky-rockets, as my blood turns into ice inside my veins. “Have you always had this happen so much?” 

I shake my head, forcing myself to turn away from the girl I can’t save. “I didn’t really know what it was before coming here, but now I realize I’ve always seen ghosts in my dreams. I’ve seen their lives, but more so, I’ve seen their deaths. But until a few days ago, I hadn’t seen them while I’m awake or heard their cries of pain. It’s awful.” 

Josh rubs my back, and I startle, not noticing his approach. Now I’m sandwiched between the two men who have become my rocks, even in the short time we’ve been together. 

They surround me, making me feel cherished and protected. I don’t even realize we’re moving until they’re sitting me on a bed in Josh’s room, Patrick sitting across from me on the other queen as Josh settles next to me after depositing Quoth in his cage.

“It’s like I’m a part of them in that moment, like I can see and feel the very moment of their death.” I feel them staring at me, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like the judging or condescending looks I’ve experienced before when talking about my issues. Instead, I feel warm and supported, like this amount of crazy isn’t that unbelievable. 

“When we were at the house, just before finding you, Josh…” I turn to our newest companion, who smiles at me and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear before pulling me against his chest. “Patrick and I were checking out the house to see what we could learn about my heritage when I heard a scream, then a scary ghost chased us outside. While we were out there, I saw two people die in a room on the top floor of the house through a window. But it felt like I was there while it was happening, like I went back in time to join them in that one horrible moment. And when that last lady died, even as she tried to convey her message, I could feel her fear and pain and anger as she took her final breath.”

Josh’s fingers are tracing gentle circles on my back again as he holds me, giving me the courage to finish baring my soul. 

“It’s… terrifying. I don’t understand why I’m seeing these things, why I become a part of that horrible moment every time. Each time I look around, I’m scared that I’ll see something even worse.” 

I stop speaking, sitting in an uncomfortable silence for what feels like forever until Patrick stands, looking more serious than I’ve ever seen in the short time I’ve known him. 

This is it. This is the maximum crazy they can handle. They’re going to leave me all alone now that they know the full extent of what I’ve experienced. 

I close my eyes, not wanting to see the look on his face, not wanting to watch him walk out of the door away from me. 

The bed dips.

My eyes fly open as Patrick sits by where my legs are curled, lifting them to settle underneath, so my shoe-covered feet rest in his lap. He carefully unties each bow, slipping the shoes off my feet and onto the floor. 

Only once he’s done with that and his hands have started drawing their own patterns does he look up, giving me a soft smile. 

“I don’t have any answers for you, Morrigan, though I wish I did.” He glances at Josh, then back at me. “I know none of us know each other very well yet, but I can promise you that no matter what happens, whatever you may face from now on, you won’t be alone. I will be right beside you all the way, and I’m fairly certain Josh will be as well.” 

Josh pulls me tighter against him, nuzzling against my ear. “Cursed vines couldn’t drag me away,” he murmurs. “We’re with you all the way.” 

“But why? If I were you I would be running for the hills. This is institutionalize level crazy, yet you’re sticking it out and believing me. No one’s ever believed me before.” The words slip out without my meaning, all those lonely nights where all the others in the orphanage would avoid me or make fun of me a reminder of what happens when people know the real me. 

“Sometimes the best moments are the crazy, unexplainable ones.” Patrick brushes the hair out of my face, making sure he has my full attention before continuing. “I’ve felt a pull toward you from the moment I first set eyes on you in the middle of that field. Whether that’s love at first sight or maybe some magical byproduct that’s bringing us together I don’t know.”

He takes a deep breath. “What I do know is that I want to spend time getting to know you better. I want to stroll through the park hand in hand as you tell me about the things you love in life. I want to hold you close and comfort you whenever you’re feeling down. I want to experience every moment with you, the good and the bad, not just because I feel this pull, but because every moment I’ve spent with you until now has shown me how strong, and brave, and incredibly resilient you are, no matter what’s thrown at you.”

“That is why I believe in you.” Patrick's voice is steady, his eyes holding mine. A yawn catches me by surprise, and I blush. He grins at me.

“I may not be as eloquent as Patrick, but you walked into that crypt like some kind of knight in shining armor to save the princess trapped in her tower and I’ve never seen someone shine as brightly as you.” Josh shrugs. “How could I not, after all of that? Besides, I’ve seen plenty of weird things I can’t understand in my adventures—knowing ghosts are real explains so many things. Getting to learn more about this with you sounds like a great way to get to know each other. I too want to see where this goes if you’ll have me.”

I relax farther into the men who are holding me so caringly. My men, although I don’t know how they’ve become so important to me in such a short time. I push that thought aside for now, content to let their comfort cover me. The rest… Well, there’s plenty of time to figure that out once the rest of this weirdness surrounding me is worked out. 

###

Quoth chirps grouchily from his cage, unimpressed at being left in it all night. He likes to stretch his wings on occasion, but—and this, in Quoth’s mind, was the more important matter—he’s starving and needs his breakfast if he is going to survive another second. 

He spies Morrigan sound asleep on the bed with the first of her fated mates and the squawking gets louder as he yells at them to get him food. They don’t listen. He liked the men the day before when they made sure he ate and drank and was comfortable, but now those feelings were… not quite as nice. 

Quoth pecks at the little bar on his cage keeping him from his meal and crows triumphantly when it slides, and the door opens with a clink. He glides smoothly from the cage and swoops to the bed, determination guiding his path as he heads straight towards the annoyances who have distracted Morrigan from her duties. 

He perches on the forearm of the huge, tattooed figure pressed against Morrigan’s back and poises to strike, watching as the delicious pink tongue wriggles around the man’s mouth. His wings flutter open to give him balance as he readies himself for a quick dart. Almost. Almost…

Just as Quoth starts his dive, the wonderful scent of berries and granola catches his attention, turning his body just enough to shove a wing in Patrick’s awaiting mouth. But Quoth doesn’t notice. He no longer cares what the humans do with their morning, as his beady eyes lock onto something much, much better. 

The small ghost boy grins as the bird flies over to him, offering up a tray of food for it to eat. His pale hand becomes translucent, like the rest of his body, once he’s no longer holding the tray. With a patient smile, the boy waits until the bird is happily eating before giving it a few head pats, then leaves, fading through the motel’s walls like mist.

###

I groan awake as Patrick gags next to me, his arms flailing around as he spits and splutters in the bed behind me. 

“What’s wrong?” I mutter sleepily, trying to turn myself but getting tangled in the sheets. 

“That dumb bird shoved its wing in my mouth!” he shouts, pawing at his mouth to dislodge the feathers that were left as evidence. 

“Quoth,” I call to the naughty pest, glancing at the open cage on the table before I see him happily munching away at something on the counter. The ghost boy from the tree is fading through the wall, and I move towards the foot of the bed to get a closer look. 

Why is he back again?

The boy is gone before I can do anything, and I push it out of my head to think more about later, turning back to Patrick with a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, Patrick. He’s usually well behaved, but he sometimes gets a little bloodthirsty if he’s hungry.” 

“At least it was you and not me.” Josh chuckles, his voice deep from sleep. “I have a strict no-feathers-in-mouth policy.” He sits up, freeing me from the sheets before standing and stretching. His muscles flex, and I snap my jaw shut to make sure I don’t accidentally drool or moan or something equally embarrassing. 

His body is a work of art honed from hours spent training to save lives and my mind envisions what it would be like to feel him on top of me while Patrick pins me to his chest. I got a pretty good idea of the second last night once Patrick settled into bed next to me, and I wish Quoth hadn’t interrupted things this morning. 

Down, girl, I reprimand myself. No dirty thoughts about people you don’t really know.

Not that I ever really avoid doing the things I’m told not to do. 

I am a bit surprised at how instantly connected I feel to these men. Normally, I abhor human contact, though I have to deal with some people at work. It takes a month or so before I’m somewhat comfortable around anyone. George and his wife are the only exceptions. The two of them are such adorable human beings; I couldn’t help but love them the moment I met them. 

“Mor, do you wanna shower since you didn’t last night?” Josh calls over his shoulder as he beelines for the coffee pot. “Us menfolk can whip up something real quick for breakfast, then we’ll hit the road. We should be able to make it to the city around lunchtime to meet up with Matty.” He glances back at us, smirking at Patrick, who is still cleaning his face. “I texted him last night after you fell asleep, and he said he’d love to take a look at it. If you bring the grimoire along, maybe we can do some reading in it on the way up, too.” 

I nod, grabbing my toiletry bag and a change of clothes that someone had retrieved from my car. “Sounds like a great plan. Thank you both. For everything.” 

Patrick smiles, grabbing me on the way past to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Any time. We’re here for you, whatever you need.”

The car ride is filled with old-fashioned games like I Spy and Twenty Questions and stories of growing up. Well, the guys share light-hearted stories of growing up. I couldn’t think of any fun or silly stories to share, so I passed. 

Quoth hadn’t wanted to return to his cage for the ride up here, so instead we left the motel window open a crack for him to come and go as he pleased. I’m sure he’s getting a little stir-crazy not getting out whenever he likes here. 

We reach the city right at noon. The traffic picks up, and it feels like we have slowed to a crawl. I fill my cheeks with air and blow out a hard breath. Patrick reaches up from the backseat and rubs my shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” Josh says, looking over. “Matty won’t be upset if we are a few minutes late.”

I muster a weak smile. “That’s good to know, but it’s not just that…” 

The guys wait patiently. Patrick gently massages my shoulders, and Josh sets his hand on my thigh. We drive in silence for a block before I continue. 

“I don’t like crowds. I never have. They are just overwhelming and a lot. Even when I only thought it was weird dreams that made sleeping hard, the dreams were more vivid any time I’d been in a large group. So I learned not to.” I shrug. “I didn’t get invited out because I didn’t have friends. When my family tried to force me to go somewhere, I’d fake sick or just lock myself in my room. Eventually, they gave up trying, and I was left to my books where I could escape to a different world without consequences and losing sleep. 

“I loved to read about high schools and academics. I’d imagine I was one of the characters living a life full of drama and intrigue. Sometimes I was the mean girl or the best friend, but most of the time I was the girl being bullied for being different. When those felt too real, I started reading fantasy and paranormal books. Most of those characters are much more accepting of people’s quirks and differences. And stuff like that could never happen in real life, so those books were safe. Except now I’m living a paranormal book.” 

I pause to rub my temples like that could change what is happening around me. 

“Anyway, with how much more I am starting to see, especially while awake, I am not super excited to be in the city and around all these people. You two take it in stride that I see dead people. Most people don’t and just think I’m crazy and should be locked up. It’s just a lot.” 

While I was rambling, we reached the restaurant and parked. 

“If it’s too much, I can go meet Matty on my own,” Josh offers, giving my leg a light squeeze. “But you know we won’t let anyone harm you or lock you up. At least, we hope you know that.”

“I do.” I inhale deeply, then let it out. “I can do it. Let’s go meet this Matty and hope he has some answers.” 

The men nod and open their doors, climbing out. I follow suit, falling into step with Patrick as we walk up to the door. 

Patrick pulls open the heavy wooden door, revealing one of the fanciest restaurants I’ve ever seen. Long white tablecloths cover each table, already set with stacks of plates, multiple glasses, and more silverware than I know what to do with. 

Stepping inside, I shiver from the blast of air conditioning. A large, dark wooden hostess stand blocks us from going farther into the space. 

“Do you have a reservation?” asks a girl who looks to be in her early twenties with platinum blonde hair and a face full of makeup. Her eyes slide over the three of us in jeans and T-shirts, and her smile hardens. “Or should I offer you directions to some of the other places around here that may be more your… style?”

My shoulders hunch forward as I try to take up less space. Patrick wraps an arm around my waist, tucking me against his side as Josh steps forward. 

“We are meeting a friend here, Matthew Archibald. He should have told you to expect us.” This is the first time I think I’ve seen Josh cross with someone. 

The hostess’s eyes widen. “Mr. Archibald? Of course. He mentioned he was meeting someone. He just didn’t mention it was… You weren’t the types he usually meets with…” she trails off. 

“Hmmm…” Josh purses his lips. “Lead the way.”

She nods quickly and steps back from the stand. “Follow me.” She turns and shows us to a small room off the main dining room. There are three tables in here, but only one has someone sitting at it. 

“Mr. Archibald,” the woman says. “Your guests are here. We will send your server in soon and then give you your privacy.” She dips her head and quickly leaves the room, sliding a pocket door closed behind her. 

“What happened to her?” asks the man at the table. He looks up at us, his eyes so dark they appear black.

“She didn’t think we belonged here,” answers Josh. “But once I said we were your guests, that all changed. Why’d you pick this place anyway, Matty?”

He sighs, running a hand through his short light brown hair. “I’ve told you I go by Matt or Matthew now, Josh. I haven’t been Matty since I was eight.” 

Josh smirks. “I know. Anyway, I know you’re a big-shot lawyer, but what gives with her reaction? Do you bring clients here a lot or something?”

“Nope,” Matt answers. “I decided to expand my investments. I’m a part owner of the restaurant.” He chuckles. 

“Well, that’s new,” Josh says, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table. 

Patrick and I follow suit. 

“These are the friends I mentioned, Morrigan and Patrick. We are in a bit of a pickle and are hoping you can help us out.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” I offer, meeting his dark eyes and feeling like I’m being sucked into a never-ending void. I smile and let myself fall farther. 

Patrick reaches over and shakes Matt’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you too,” he murmurs, and I feel a shiver run down my spine, but this one isn’t from fear. “And I hope I can help you, too, but first, let’s eat. What good is being a partial owner of a restaurant if I can’t enjoy the food?” 

As if on cue, the door slides open, and a man in black slacks and a white button-down enters the room with a stainless-steel pitcher in his hand. He reaches past me and fills one of the three glasses in front of me with water before circling the table.

When everyone has a drink, he finally speaks. “Which bottle would you like today, sir?”

“Bring us a bottle of pinot noir and pinot grigio. We will go through the preset menu for tonight,” Matt answers without looking through the menu. 

The man bows slightly and retreats from the room, sliding the door closed behind him. 

My eyes go wide as I look over at Josh, thinking maybe I should have taken him up on his offer to come alone, but also knowing we are a team and I need to be here. 

Josh snorts. “He’s not that bad, Mor. He just pretends to be a stuck-up ass.”

Matt chokes on the sip of water he had just taken, then beats his fist on his chest. “Well, there’s the Josh I grew up with. Always snarky. But he’s right. I’m typically more laid back. I just came here because we had some bad reviews, and I wanted to make sure everyone is doing what they are supposed to be doing.”

“And coming into a private room is how you are doing that?” asks Patrick. “Wouldn’t being undercover be a better way to assess what’s happening here?”  

Matt raises his hand, rubbing it across his short beard. “That’s a good point.” He shrugs. “But Josh made your needs seem urgent and personal. So I thought the party room was best.”

We are saved from answering by the door sliding open again. The server returns, carrying two bottles of wine. He opens the first, pouring a small amount of red liquid into a wide glass. Matt takes a sip and nods before the server finishes pouring the wine.He does the same with the white wine except the glass is taller and skinnier. 

“Thank you, Gerald. We will take the appetizers now.” 

The server nods at Matt, then leaves the room as quietly as he came in. 

“That was weird,” I say, then blush. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

“It’s okay, ma cherie.” Matt smiles gently. “It takes some time to get used to, and if you’re wondering, yes, I do feel like a prick when I act like this. But this is what our clientele expect when they come here. At least with me, the staff won’t get screamed at or threatened to be fired.”  

I don’t know how to respond, so I nod and stay silent. 

Josh and Matt catch up on life while we wait for the first course. In addition to buying part of the restaurant, Matt has had some high-profile cases go to court in the past few months. There were death threats involved, so now he is trying to lie low for a while. 

The door slides open, and two servers appear carrying something that’s either a deep plate or a shallow bowl. They set one in front of each of us before leaving the room. It looks kind of like overcooked pasta. 

I look at the multiple spoons and forks on the table, and my anxiety simmers into a boil. I have no idea which one to use, and all three men are looking at me. 

Matt clears his throat and points to the spoon the farthest from the plate. “If you want to use them all, you use them from the outside in, but I honestly don’t care. Pick whichever one you like the best.”

I snort a laugh, throwing my hands up to cover my face. “Oh God, sorry! That’s embarrassing, but also, I don’t have strong feelings towards silverware, so I guess I’ll use the one on the outside.” I pick up the spoon and take a bite. “This is so good! What is it? Wait, do I want to know?”

The guys all laugh before Matt answers, “It’s risotto. A rice dish. It is one of our most popular appetizers and can be served with lobster or scallops on it.” 

The nerves of meeting a new person seem to have passed, and I allow myself to get sucked into the small talk until the desserts are brought in and placed before us. When the room is empty except for us, Matt turns back to the table.

“Now that the food is done, Josh said you wanted to ask me about a stone you found?” Matt states. “Can I get some more details on where you found it? And I’m guessing you brought it with you?” He waits for my nod and then holds out his hand. 

I reach up and carefully untangle the string from my hair, then slide the necklace out from under my shirt. The green stone hangs heavy and dull from the end of the chain. 

Passing it over, I relay the story of finding it in a tree and thinking it was glowing but leave out the part of the ghost child handing it to me. I’d only just met the man, and while Patrick and Josh seem to accept ghosts, who knows if Matt will be as understanding? 

Matt holds it up to the light, licks it, and scratches it with one of his knives. He even squeezes a slice of lemon over the bit he scratched off. I watch, fascinated and worried at the same time because what sort of person just licks something a stranger hands them?

I was able to find a section in the grimoire about power stones on the drive down. The witches of Spells Hollow used crystals in their magic. It amplified the witches’ powers, and spells could be boosted by different types of stones. 

It also said each founding house had a stone of power linked to its house. Each family had their own magical specialty, and based on that, they each received a stone. There was one paragraph about protecting the stone because if it was stolen, that would boost the other houses while weakening ours. 

I’m not sure if this is my family’s power stone or another family’s or just a crystal that was used when the town was active, but the first step had to be learning what type of stone it is. 

Matt clears his throat. “My best guess is that this is azurite.”

“And how sure would that guess be?” asks Patrick.

“About ninety-five percent sure,” Matt answers. “I don’t have my full testing kit here, and I haven’t got samples to compare it to, but from what I can see, that’s what I’m guessing.”

“Does the book say anything about what azurite is linked to?” asks Josh excitedly. 

I pull the grimoire out of my purse and open it to the page marked with a ribbon. Scanning the list of crystals used for magic, I find what I’m looking for. “Azurite: increases psychic powers. It also has healing powers and will help maintain good physical and mental health. Well, that’s not too bad, right?” I ask. 

Matt gives a deep chuckle, “If you believe in the woo-woo stuff, yeah, that doesn’t sound too bad. Maintaining good mental health is important. Where did you say you found this? I’ve not heard of a piece this size being found in ages.”

“Spells Hollow,” I answer, my face flushing slightly. This is why I stopped telling people the truth of what I really saw when I was a child. No one believes you when you say you can see ghosts.

“That haunted place?” Matt asks. 

“Yep,” answers Josh. “We are heading back there after this. Want to come with us in case we find some other crystals?”

“It could be a good place to lie low,” adds Patrick. “I doubt very many people would come that far to find you.”

Matt thinks for a minute before nodding slowly, “When you put it like that, yeah. It probably is a good place to hide out in for a little while. And maybe we will score some more stones while we are out there that I can add to my collection.”

“Good.” I smile. “I have a feeling we’ll be needing more of your help. Let’s grab you a bag and get on the road. Something tells me we are on the edge of something big.”

As soon as we’re outside of the restaurant, Matt loosens his tie and rolls up the sleeves of his dark gray three-piece suit, looking less and less like he has a stick up his ass with every second.

“All right, let me get this straight. So Josh went to be an idiot and explore a haunted town, trapped himself in a crypt, and nearly died until you two happened to show up. So why were you both there?” Is there some haunted town convention happening that I don’t know about?” Matthew chuckles.

Patrick glances at me, probably noticing my obvious reluctance to mention much about my reason. “Well, since some people end up wandering into Spells Hollow, then get lost, it’s always important to check on things. My ancestors have lived in the area for centuries, and we sort of take it upon ourselves to keep an eye on it.” 

“I thought Josh said it was just some mysterious place full of ‘untapped potential’ because no one in their right mind would ever go there. Making the cursed town some big local legend or something.” Matt glares over at his friend. “Not that I believe in things like curses, but it’s obvious there are weird things happening there. And this idiot decides he just has to go and try to get himself killed.”

“Oh, you were listening when I told you that stuff? I just figured you’d zoned me out like usual,” Josh teases cheekily, tousling Matt’s hair until it’s fluffy and not at all in the perfect comb-over it had been. “You know I’ve always loved hiking and doing stupid things. Why not combine both in one adventure? Besides, thanks to that, I got to meet Mor and Patrick.” 

I think I hear Matt grumble something like, “yeah, and almost died in the process,” but he drops it, heading towards a shiny new silver Bentley. “My lady?” He opens the passenger door, holding it for me to join him. “Josh, I’ve been crashing at your place since all these death threats have heated up. Would you direct Patrick on how to get there while I race ahead and show Morrigan all your embarrassing baby pictures? Thanks!” He doesn’t wait for a response, closing the door after me before running around to hop into the driver’s seat. 

Once we’re a few blocks away, he shoots me a grin. “So, Morrigan, how did a cute gal like you get caught up with Whirlwind Josh?” 

I chuckle at the nickname. “Just fate, I guess.” I shrug. 

He glances over, arching one perfectly shaped eyebrow. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t believe in fate?” I narrow my eyes at him.

He copies my shrug. “Not really. Who would want to believe that there is some force outside our control dictating what happens in our lives? I much prefer to think that we make our own destinies by how we choose to live each day.”

I purse my lips, processing his idea. “That makes some sense, but what about the times you can’t control?  Like me and this connection to Spell’s Hollow.”

“Other people affect our lives with their choices, if that’s what you mean. So yes, you can’t control everything that happens in your life,” Matt states. 

We both sit in quiet contemplation for the last few minutes of the drive before pulling into an underground parking garage.

“I shouldn’t take too long, but I’d recommend coming upstairs with me. Better safe than sorry, right?” 

I nod as Matt opens his door. He hurries around the car, grabbing my door for me as well. 

“Well, aren’t you the gentleman?” I joke.

“My mom always told me, ‘If you find something special, you take care of it, so you don’t lose it.’” Matt smiles, offering me a hand. “And I’m pretty sure you’re something special.”

My cheeks warm. I’m saved from answering as a squeal of tires rents the air, and Patrick’s car comes speeding into the garage. 

Josh jumps out before the car is fully stopped.

“What the hell, Matt?!” he yells, running toward us. “Not cool, stealing my girl like that!”

My face, which had started to return to its normal pale shade, flames red again. 

“Your girl?” I hear from two different voices and directions. Patrick sounds angry, while Matt sounds intrigued. 

“Ummm… our girl?” Josh says. 

“Well, that’s not what I expected,” mutters Matt under his breath. “But to each their own.” 

“Moving on,” I practically yell, flapping my arms to start everyone moving as I take off towards a random wall.

“Where are we going?” Matt asks as he follows my directions.

“To get your bag…” I trail off.

“Then we should probably head to the stairs or the elevator, which are”—he points in the opposite direction from where I’m going—“that way.” 

I spin on my heel and march in the direction Matt indicated. I pass Josh, who has a hand on Patrick’s arm, holding him back from following me originally. They quickly fall into step with me while stifling their laughter.

* * *

The sun is setting as we pull back up to the motel. Matt rode back with us, hoping the new car would make it harder for anyone looking for him to notice he left town. 

I stiffly climb out of the backseat, then twist back and forth, cracking my back and sighing in relief. 

“Well, this is…something,” says Matt, taking in the lack of buildings or people around. “Where did you find the azurite?” He looks around for the tree we’d described to him earlier, crinkling his brow.

“It’s in the town of Spells Hollow,” says Patrick. 

“And aren’t we in Spells Hollow?”

“Nor really,” Patrick answers. “There’s a small road back up the road a little ways. It leads to where the town was. We will head out there in the morning. The road isn’t in the best shape and is hard enough to pass when you can see where you’re going.” 

“We’ve had a room here since last night, so you are welcome to join us, or we can get you another room,” I offer. “I doubt whoever is hunting you would come this far.”

“Or make it through the night if they tried,” says Josh.

“How would it work if we all shared a room?” asks Matt. “Like aren’t there only two beds?”

“Yes,” answers Patrick. “But I’m down to cuddle with Mor and I don’t mind sharing the space with Josh, too.” 

My face flames again as Josh answers, “As long as I’m not the little spoon.”

“So I’d get a bed to myself,” Matt muses. “Sounds good to me. Lead the way.”

We take him to our room at the end. Opening the door, we find that the beds are made and our bags sit neatly lined up on the floor. Someone even added fresh flowers on the desk. Quoth is sleeping in his cage, barely opening his eyes before he’s back to snoozing.

“I call first shower,” I announce, heading to the bathroom before anyone can reply.

Closing the door behind me, I let out a long breath, wondering how my life has gotten this off track. 

I hurry through my shower, aware that the guys may want a turn. Reentering the room, I find the three guys sitting around talking and laughing with an episode of Friends playing in the background. 

The conversation cuts off as Josh meets my eyes, quickly followed by the other two. 

“Way to make a girl feel welcome,” I say, dropping my gaze to my feet. 

All three men start speaking at once. 

“It’s not what you think,” Patrick blurts.

“We weren’t talking about you,” Matt says. 

“Mor…” Josh beseeches.

“It’s fine,” I say, blinking hard. 

Patrick hops up from the bed he was lying on and comes to me, gently cupping my jaw and forcing my gaze from the floor. 

“Mor,” he starts. “Morrigan. I was just stunned by how gorgeous you are, as I assume the other two are as well.” They both nod in agreement. “We were talking about our favorite shows growing up.” He nods to the television. 

I take a deep breath and nod. “I’m sorry. Growing up, I was always the butt of the jokes, or the one who made everyone stop talking when I entered the room. After thirteen years of that through school, it’s where my mind jumps to automatically. But I know you and Josh enough by now to know I should trust you. You have been nothing but kind to me from the beginning.” 

I meet Patrick’s ice-blue eyes, and my heart skips a beat. My tongue slips out and slides along my bottom lip. Patrick’s eyes darken as he tracks the movement. I suck in a deep breath of his musk and bergamot scent. 

Patrick leans forward slowly, keeping his eyes locked on mine. I forget that Matt and Josh are in the room with us. His lips press into mine gently. He pulls back, and I lean forward, chasing him. He smiles before taking my mouth again. I feel his tongue run along the seam of my lips, requesting entry. I open my mouth, and his tongue darts in, stroking mine and lighting a fire in my belly. Something flutters through my arms almost like ants running down toward my fingers.  

I moan, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him closer as his hands move down to my hips.

A hand pulls my hair around my shoulder, freeing one side of my neck, and I flinch, pulling back from Patrick’s mouth. 

“Sorry,” Josh says, turning red. “I wasn’t sure if you remembered we were here. And I want you to know that he’s not the only one interested in you.” 

“Definitely not,” Matt adds from his place near the small office table. 

“But…” Josh smiles at me. “I’m open to sharing if that’s something you would like, too.”

I gape at the three men before me. “You can’t be serious,” I splutter. “Sharing?! Who does that?!”

“Someone who believes they have enough love for more than one person,” Matt answers. 

“Or someone who doesn’t want to choose,” Patrick adds.

“It’s not as taboo as you might think,” says Josh. “There are clubs dedicated to all kinds of lifestyles, and more and more people are living their lives openly. If you want to think about it a little longer, that’s okay, too.”

My mouth opens and closes while I try to form words. I have never thought about having multiple partners and how that would look. Sure, in some of the journals and diaries I’d transcribed, the men had been with multiple women, but they typically didn’t know about each other, let alone all be together at the same time. 

I’m saved from answering when movement catches my attention on the far side of the room. The young boy from the tree walks into the room. 

I turn to see what he needs. 

“Is someone here?” asks Josh. 

I nod. The little boy is looking straight into my eyes, smiling softly. 

“What?” says Matt. “I don’t see anyone.”

“Long story,” Patrick answers. “Who is it? What do they need?”

“The little boy who helped me,” I say, still watching him approach. If he had been a person, I would be able to hold the hand he is holding out. 

His smile gets larger as he reaches toward my face. “Thank you for helping us,” he whispers as his fingers touch my cheek, then my world goes black.

The next morning I’m treated to breakfast in bed from the diner. I’m not sure who went and got it, but the smell of bacon and coffee has me coming back from dreamland. 

“How are you feeling?” asks Matt, coming to sit beside me on the bed. 

“Okay,” I murmur, bringing my hand up to rub my eyes. “What happened?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Matt says. “We were having a conversation, then you suddenly turned to face away from all of us, but these two seemed to know what was happening. Then you smiled. Then you collapsed.”

“You did come around a few times but seemed tired and cold,” adds Josh. “We tucked you into bed and took turns checking on you throughout the night.”

“When I asked the other two what happened, they said it was your story to tell, not theirs,” Matt complains. “So now can I know what happened?”

I sit up, smiling gratefully at Patrick and Josh. Patrick shrugs while Josh nods at me. 

“I guess…” I say. 

Patrick cuts me off. “But first, how are you really feeling? You kept waking up and would say something and then go back to sleep.”

“I’m hungry, but I’m awake,” I answer. 

Josh moves over to the table, grabbing a plate and adding a sample of breakfast items to it. He tosses a few pieces in Quoth’s mouth, who happily gulps them down. Matt clears his throat, drawing my attention back to him. 

“And to answer your question, as nuts as I’m going to sound, I can see ghosts. And talk to them now.”

Matt blinks owlishly at me as Josh hands me the plate. “Since when?” Josh asks. “I thought it was only when you were experiencing their deaths that you heard anything. Or something like that.”

“The little boy from the tree showed up last night. He told me ‘Thank you,’ then he touched me. That’s the last thing I remember.” I grab a strip of bacon and bite it in half. 

“Guess you can’t touch ghosts even if you can talk to them,” adds Patrick. “Wait, can anyone actually touch a ghost?”

Matt looks back and forth between all of us before busting out laughing. “That’s a good one,” he wheezes out between guffaws. “You almost had me.” 

Josh walks over to the bed with a plate for himself and plops onto the bed, clapping Matt on his shoulder. “I wish we were joking, but no such luck, mate.”

Matt chokes off the laughter and scans each of our faces. “Shit. You’re serious?”

“I’d have voted to wait longer to tell you, since you’ve always been a skeptic,” Josh says. “But we are about to head to Spell’s Hollow, and well… Shit hit the fan when we were up there, so better safe than sorry.”

“That’s the first time I’ve passed out,” I grumble. 

“Yeah, but that was much less dramatic than some of the other scenes you’ve lived…experienced…whatever word I’m looking for.” Josh smiles, sitting down with his own breakfast plate. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I sass back. “But I’d rather take a nap than be burned at the stake again.” I shudder at the memory. 

“How about we try not to do either,” Patrick inputs from his seat. “Matt, get some breakfast if you want it, so we can go to the house, and you can experience all there is to experience in Spells Hollow.”

* * *

Less than an hour later, we are bouncing up the dirt road on our way back to the land of my ancestors. 

“Are you sure we should be here?” asks Matt. “Something just feels wrong. Like we are walking on a grave or something.”

“I mean, that’s not a horrible description.” Patrick shrugs. “And I’d say you get used to it, but you don’t. You just learn to ignore it the longer you are up here.”

“But I find it slightly lessens when I’m with Mor,” Josh adds. “Maybe hold her hand or something and see if it helps.” 

I twist from my spot in the front seat, trying and failing to find a comfortable way to push my arm toward the back. 

“Maybe when we get there?” I suggest. “It should only be about ten to fifteen more minutes.”

Matt grimaces but nods. 

Patrick maneuvers his car closer to the O’Byrne house than last time. We pile out, looking around at the desolate landscape. They take a few steps away from the vehicle while I hang back to let Quoth out to stretch his wings. He immediately takes off for the treeline, enjoying the chance to explore the area.

“This is both cool and creepy,” Matt says, looking from one house to the next. “So what was this place again?” 

He moves closer to me and holds out his hand as Patrick gives him a rundown of the town’s history as far as his family was able to track. 

“Can you show me where you found the stone?” Matt asks. “I’d love to see if there are any more around here.” 

“Sure but watch your step. Obviously, no one’s done yard work for a while, so who knows what you’ll step on.” I use the hand I’m holding to lead him around the side of the house. 

“This place could be better, but it looks like it’s in good shape. Why are you staying at the motel and not just camping out here?”

I pause to think about it. “I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it, but that’s a good idea.” 

We round the house, reaching the area that used to be a garden. I point to the tree in the distance, starting to explain everything to Matt when the woman from before appears a few feet in front of us. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asks.

I nod. “Yep. But one of the ladies from before is here. She used to live here when the town was still a town.”

“Told you things get active up here,” calls Josh as he and Patrick round the house to join us. 

The woman is wearing the same dress as before and carrying a basket of vegetables. She steps closer, but I take a step back, dragging Matt with me. Even though I joked about enjoying my nap, I don’t really want to lose another day. 

Her smile falters slightly, but she stops. She bends, sets the basket on the ground, then pushes it toward me. 

I look at it, then back at the woman.

“A thank you,” she says, “for freeing me.” She lifts her face to the sky as a light shines down from above, bright enough I have to look away. When the light fades, the woman is gone, but the basket of vegetables sits on the ground.

“Where did that come from?” asks Matt, leaning toward the basket. 

“What happened?” asks Patrick, coming up on my other side and taking my hand.

“Free food?” asks Josh.

“I don’t know,” I answer all of them. “The lady who was gardening put it there. Then she was consumed by a light, so I guess she passed over. Before she left, she thanked me for freeing her.”

“What did she mean by that?” asks Patrick. “Freeing her from what?”

“Maybe whatever has those vines being super creepy and alive…” Josh says with a shudder. 

“What vines, and why are they creepy?” asks Matt.

“Long story,” Josh says. “I’ll catch you up on it later. But first, what’s the game plan?” 

I look around the empty dead yard. “See what else we can find around the house and start training my magic, if I have any…”

“You do,” Patrick says. “I could sense it from early on.”

“Of course you have magic,” Matt mutters under his breath. “You can see ghosts; what more is magic in the mix?”

I snort a laugh. “I get it,” I tell him. “I didn’t believe it at first either.” 

His face flushes slightly, but he nods.

“I’d like to go poke around in the yard and near that tree. We may find more gems and stones,” Matt says, turning in that direction.

“Okay,” Josh pipes up. “I’ll go with you and fill you in on some of the other stuff that’s been happening around here.” 

Matt nods, and the two of them walk off, aiming for the treeline.. 

“That leaves you and me, sweet cheeks,” Patrick purrs. “So, what do you want to do? Search the house more or have some witch practice first?” 

I shake my head at his new nickname for me and think through my options. “We’ve already searched most of the downstairs… I guess we should see if you are right and I can do more than talk to ghosts.” 

He smiles, turning to survey the area around us. 

“Would going back to the middle of the houses be a good option for a place to practice? That area only had one tree, so it’s pretty open,” Patrick asks. 

I turn and glare at him, remembering the feeling of fire licking at my legs from the last time I stepped onto the grass. 

“Didn’t think so. So how about we go over there?” He points toward the side where the crypt rests beneath the trees. 

“Aren’t you worried about the vines deciding to eat us?” I ask.

“They don’t eat people; they simply trap them in stasis in the crypt,” Patrick answers. “But no, because we aren’t going to get that close to the crypt. Our goal is to have an open area to practice while we figure out what your affinity is.” 

That makes sense and should hopefully limit the amount of damage to the already weakened structures. 

We make our way to the middle of the flat lawn, standing in knee-high dead grass. Spinning in a circle, Patrick nods. 

“This is good. Now, every witch has magic that tends to lean toward one element or another. I have a guess where yours will be, but we should test all five just to be sure.”

“What’s your affinity?” I ask.

“Fire,” he answers. “My family wanted me to join the family business and be a firefighter, but I followed my passion into tattooing.”

My mouth falls open in surprise. “I’m glad you’re doing what makes you happy. So fire, water, wind…you said five, right?”

“Yep.” Patrick nods. “Earth and spirit.” 

“Well, if that doesn’t hit the nail on the head. Why do we need to check all of them? I see ghosts. Of course mine would be spirit.”

“Some witches and warlocks have more than one affinity. We need to see what we are working with here.” 

He asks me to trust him—which I already do—and walks over to the tree line, returning with some small sticks. 

He stops a few feet in front of me, holding his hand out flat. “First, let’s try wind. Feel inside yourself for a warm spot that you haven’t noticed before. Most people say it’s near their center. Can you find it?”

I close my eyes and turn my focus inward, searching for this warmth inside he mentioned. After a few minutes, I notice a tiny spot that matches his description. 

“I think I found it, but it’s so small, like the size of a grape or something.” 

His brow creases. “Glad you found it, but that doesn’t seem right. I’ve sensed a lot of power from you, especially when you are caught in the death memories.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, focus on that spot and call the warmth up. Draw the power through your arms and to your hands. Tell it what you want it to do and create a breeze that will knock the sticks from my hand.”

I take a step closer to him, but he shakes his head, stopping me in my tracks. 

“Magic can happen over a distance. The longer you practice, the greater the distance, but even to start, a few feet should be doable. And it keeps you from being tempted to smack them out of my hand.” 

I laugh a little, but he doesn’t. Guess there’s a story there.

“Okay,” I agree, closing my eyes, then mentally reaching inside to the little warmth I found. I tug on it, but there’s no response. I plead with it mentally, but it refuses to move, staying tucked safely in my center. I dig my nails in and try to force it to flow up my arms, but it seems to shrink the more I try. 

I give up with a sigh. “It’s no use. The magic won’t come, and it seems to be withdrawing more with everything I’m trying.”

Patrick steps into my space reaching up and stroking my cheek. “It’s okay, Mor,” he murmurs. “These things take time.”

“Do we have time?” I ask. 

“I don’t know, but we have to hope we do.” He leans forward, brushing a kiss against my lips. It’s feather-light but makes me want more. I grab his shirt and tug him back to my mouth, adding more heat to the kiss. I feel his lips tilt into a smile, then he devours my mouth.

My blood and body heats at the promises his mouth is making, and I moan. He grunts in reply and plunges his tongue into my mouth, stroking and tasting every inch. 

I pull back with a gasp, struggling to get my breathing under control. I feel lighter suddenly, the tiny ball of magic expanding from my center until I can feel it filling every cell in my body. My hand flexes, and the magic responds, eagerly awaiting my every command.

“Patrick,” I huff. “I can feel it. My magic has grown, and it’s responding to my summons now.”

Patrick’s eyes squint, and he cocks his head to the side, but doesn’t say anything at first. Then he nods and steps back, holding the sticks out again. 

“Focus on the magic and see if you can make a gust or a breeze to knock them off my hand.”

I close my eyes and feel the powers inside me rush down my arms like a flood, but they stop as they reach my fingertips. I mentally try to push forward, but it’s like they have hit a wall. 

“Um, not to be a Debbie Downer, but they seem stuck.” I keep my eyes closed, feeling the power filling my arms and back to my middle. 

Patrick makes a soft noise. “Try picturing your powers flowing like a playful breeze. Soft and flowing. Or like a hurricane with strong, hard blasts.”

I try to do as I’m told, but my power still rushes to the end of my fingers and freezes. 

I shake my head, blinking my eyes open. “I think it’s broken.” I sigh. 

Patrick laughs. “Not broken. You can feel it. You can wield at least some of it in talking to ghosts. You are not broken.” He emphasizes the last two words. “We have learned that your affinity isn’t wind, but there are still four—umm, three—left to test. Should we move on to water?”  

I nod, hoping this is the one. Fire and water, they would fit well together like we fit well together. 

“Okay, same thing. Focus on your power, feel it rushing through you like a wild river. Or maybe a gentle stream. Whatever it is that you’re needing from your power at the moment. I’d suggest a babbling brook currently, but that’s because I don’t want to get soaked.” He smirks, nodding at where the sticks still lay in his outstretched hand. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to clear my mind. I call the power from my center, drawing it up and up, filling myself until it feels like I’m about to overflow. It flows down my arms, more of a rushing river than the babbling brook Patrick requested, but beggars can’t be choosers, and I’m sure control comes with time and practice. 

My magic rushes down my arms, reaching my hands. I smile, sure that this is it. I can control water and will be able to do more than just talk to ghosts. But just like last time, it reaches my fingertips, then stops so suddenly I let out a grunt. 

“Ow,” I moan. “That was physically painful when it stopped.”

Patrick smiles softly. “Sorry. I should have warned you about that. Sometimes when the power is too much, it can be an almost electric shock going through you.”

“Not as shocking as a car crash,” I complain, shaking out my arms. “Let’s try again.”

Patrick’s eyes look sad when he states, “I don’t think water is your affinity. We should try fire.”

My hope deflates. I was so sure water was going to be my gift. Not that I don’t think seeing ghosts is a cool power, but I don’t know if I’d call it a gift. And it’s not something I can see being useful in a battle of any kind.

“Fine.” I sigh. “Is this how everyone finds out their affinities? Trial and error?”

Patrick shrugs. “More or less. The order can be different. Most magic travels in family lines. If someone knows their family is strong in, say, fire, they would probably start testing there. If we didn’t know that you could see ghosts, we’d have started with spirit, based on the grimoire. But obviously, that doesn’t need testing; so now we work our way through the rest. And not everyone has a double affinity. Most don’t. Don’t be discouraged if you only have a spirit affinity. It’s a kick ass magic. I’ll just have to do some research to see how best to train you…”

“Kick ass?” I question. “Being able to hear ghosts and relive their deaths with them doesn’t seem like a helpful magic. I can’t use it in a fight or to protect the ones I love. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I’m a witch, mostly, and that I’m learning more about my family and our past, but if I have these powers, I’d like to be able to do good in the world.”

Patrick closes the distance between us, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into a comforting hug. 

“Oh, Mor.” He sighs, tucking my head under his chin. “You have so much to learn. Spirit is so much more than just seeing ghosts. You can bring back and control the dead. Spirit users can take away the will of a living person, magical or not, and control their actions. I want you to have a double affinity to protect you, not anyone else. Spirit users are feared. They were and are hunted. Your magic isn’t weak. It’s the opposite. It’s so strong that other witches and warlocks fear it. I want you to have something else to share when someone asks about your affinity. You won’t be able to hide your magic. I sensed it when I first laid eyes on you, and it’s only grown since.”

“I would never take over another person’s will. Well, I don’t want to take their choices away.” I shudder at the idea. 

“I know, Morrigan O’Byrne, but others may not take the chance to get to know you first. Most witches are scared enough of spirit users that they have a policy of kill first, ask questions later, and that’s what I want you to avoid.” He gently presses a kiss to my forehead before pulling back. “Now let’s test out these last two and maybe something will spark.” 

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands, sniffling a few times before stepping back to my place to practice. 

Like the other two times, I search inside myself, pulling my magic up. Focusing on fire, I feel the warmth traveling through me, almost burning me from the inside out. I slow the magic before it can go rushing toward freedom, hoping if I send it down in a flood, it can break through whatever barrier is stopping me. I scream as I force it down and out. It flies down my arms like a wildfire, burning everything in its path and turning my skin pink. It reaches my hands and fizzles out. I fall forward, catching myself on my hands and knees, panting from the effort. 

Patrick runs forward again. “Mor! Morrigan, are you okay?! What happened?!” He crouches next to me, gently running his hand up and down my back. 

“I don’t know,” I huff. “I could feel my magic rushing through me, then it hit a wall or something. But it was moving faster this time. I thought it would get through.” I drop back onto my rear, looking down at my hands. My palms sting slightly where the skin ripped open against the ground. Blood trickles from the wounds, but as I stare, the skin starts to seal itself back together. Within a minute, the blood stops and nothing is left except a small pink star on each hand. 

“What the hell?” I say in amazement. 

Patrick grabs my hands, turning them this way and that, before looking up at me, his eyes shining slightly. 

“Morrigan, you healed yourself,” he whispers. “Your second affinity is Earth. You can heal and keep yourself safe!” His voice rises as he continues. He pulls me into himself, trying to spin before giving up. “You will be safe if you can heal yourself. And one day, when you are trained more, you may be able to help heal others.” 

He points to the ground around us, “Just look, you healed the grass.” 

I gasp as I realize he’s right. The area around us is now filled with lush green grass instead of the dry brown weeds that surrounded us before. My mind flashes back to when we saved Josh, how the surrounding area had been alive for a moment before fading back into the clutches of death. 

“Wow!” I whisper, looking around. “This is amazing!” I reach inside to pull more magic to heal more of the ground around us, but I feel empty inside. My magic that just minutes ago was flowing through me hard enough to knock me down is back to being a tiny warm spot that won’t respond to my request. 

“Umm, Patrick. I think we have a problem.”

“What would that be?” he asks, looking around us. “You’ve healed yourself and this area. You are super powerful!”

I chew on my lip, trying to find the words. “My magic is back to being a little nugget that’s ignoring me.” 

He crinkles his eyebrows. “I can still sense your magic. It seems just as strong as when you were using it.”

“Yeah, it’s still there,” I say. “It’s just not responding to me and feels … smaller. Is this normal?”

Patrick rubs his hands down his face before shaking his head. “I’ve never heard of anything like this. Younger witches sometimes struggle to control their magic and have to work to build up their power, but I’ve never heard of someone not getting their magic to respond after it’s awoken.”

My heart drops at this, and I bite down on my tongue to keep the tears back. I thought I was getting answers and figuring out what made me different from the kids I grew up with, but even in a world of witches, I’m still different. I’m saved from answering as I hear footsteps crunching through the grass. 

“Woah! What happened here?” asks Josh. 

“Mor healed the land,” Patrick answers, smiling. 

“That’s awesome!” Matt says. “Is that part of your magic?”

I smile softly at this man of law and order trying to accept that magic is real. 

“Yeah, part of it,” I answer. “We learned I have an affinity for earth and spirit elements. How did your search go?”

Josh plops onto the grass next to me. Matt takes a minute and then follows suit. 

“Successful and not,” Matt answers. “We found lots of shale, a few quartz, but no more jewels like you found. Guess you are luckier than me.” He smiles.

“The grimoire says some families only have one powerstone for the family. I’d guess that’s what I found. I was just hoping some others may have been around. If these are as powerful as the book says, more could only help.”

“I’m not giving up that easily,” Matt answers. “We can keep looking around here and inside. Speaking of, can I get a tour?”

Josh pops to his feet, then turns to offer me a hand up. “I’m down for more exploring.” Matt looks confused. “We’ve only explored part of the house so far.”

“Yeah,” Partick answers, “That’s because you missed an angry ghost blocking the stairs, but the first floor was interesting. Who knows what we will find upstairs?”

Pushing open the back door, we enter the kitchen with a few coughs and sneezes from all the dust. I look around, checking to see if the woman who was here last time is back. 

Seeing no one, I sigh in relief. “Josh, can you and Patrick open a couple windows to air the place out? Then Quoth can come and go as he pleases too.”

We give Matt a quick tour of the downstairs. He gets distracted in the office space, looking for books we may have missed, and I smile softly at finding something in common with him. 

Moving toward the stairs, I fall behind Josh and Patrick. They smirk at me but continue forward.

“You worried the ghost lady is going to appear?” asks Josh. 

I smile at him and point forward. “Yep, and I’m letting you two take her on.”

“What are we supposed to do about a ghost?” asks Patrick. 

“Hmmm… I hadn’t thought about that. Guess we will see if she appears.” 

The guys laugh as we make our way to the foot of the stairs. 

“We should be careful going up,” Josh advises. “We don’t know if they are still passable or if the wood has rotted through. I’d hate for someone to get hurt and us not be able to have help arrive. I doubt a firetruck or ambulance would be able to pass up the road to town.”

Josh takes the lead, slowly testing each step before moving to the next. After what feels like an hour but is probably closer to ten minutes, we reach the landing. 

“Are we good now?” asks Patrick. 

Josh shrugs. “This ground could still be bad, but it’s easier to jump sideways and not get as injured on a flat surface than on stairs. I’d recommend either sticking together as a group or at least pairs while we explore.”

We agree to the plan and move down the hallway. Entering the first room, we find a simple bedroom. 

A large bed is centered across from the window. The mattress still looks fluffy, even after all this time. The bedframe is simple carved timber with what once were curtains, but now has more holes than fabric, hanging near the top. Simple tables sit on either side of the bed holding oil lamps, the wicks ready to be lit but the oil gone with time. 

Under the window is a chest of drawers. The paint is chipped and faded, but it looks like it had flowers and other personal touches on it. On top of the chest sits a porcelain pitcher and a bowl, and on the floor in the corner sits a chamber pot. I grimace and am glad that indoor plumbing was invented long before I was born. 

We spread around the room, seeing if we can find anything of use. I search the drawers with Josh. We find clothes full of holes for both a woman and a man, making me think this was the primary bedroom of the family. Matt and Patrick search under the mattress and the end tables, coming up empty. 

We continue making our way through the second floor, finding more bedrooms. One other had a large bed, but the rest had multiple smaller beds set around the room. I’d guess for the children to sleep in. 

Approaching one room, I hear giggling. I falter for a step before continuing on.

“Morrigan? Are you okay?” asks Matt. “Did you trip on something?” 

“Are you injured?” calls Josh from his place at the front of the group. 

“I’m fine,” I answer both of them, squeezing Matt’s hand to reassure him. “I heard giggles coming from the room up ahead. I think there are children here.” 

I move past the others to the doorway from where I heard the noises and peek around. Two young girls sit on the floor, rolling a ball back and forth. The girls look to be no older than six and are both wearing white dresses with lace accents on the sleeves and hems. White bonnets cover their hair with the strings hanging freely. 

I smile, watching the sisters play together. One of the girls looks up and locks her eyes on me. 

“Do you want to play with us?” she asks. “It’s only been us for so long.”

“I don’t know if I have time,” I tell her. 

“Please!” begs the other little girl. “Our governess went away. Can you please play with us?”

I glance over my shoulder to see the three guys standing behind me watching me engage in a conversation they can only hear my half of. 

“Okay, I’ll play, but just for a minute.” I cross into the room and sink to the floor. 

The girls clap and push the ball toward me. I wonder if I’ll be able to catch it or if it will pass right through me. I’d not considered the how of playing with ghost children when I’d agreed. 

I hold my hands down in front of me to catch the ball. They are filled with a blast of cold like I’m grabbing ice. I shiver, pushing the feeling forward and see the ball go rolling toward the other little girl. They laugh and start singing a song I’ve never heard before. 

Stand for yourself

Make your family proud

Don’t give in

When curses abound

Evil will stand

Evil won’t win

One day, the sun will shine again

One day, the land will be free. 

When the ground grows,

When the sun shows,

The savior will come 

To break the curse. 

She’ll stand against Evil

She’ll set us all free.

She’ll bring the O’Byrnes back from the grave.

The Morigana she will be. 

I freeze as I listen. “That’s a pretty song. Where did you learn that?” I ask. 

“Nan taught us,” says the younger girl. “Before she went away. She said it was important that we learned it. It could help save the family.”

“It sounds like Nan is very smart.” I smile at the little girl. “I enjoyed playing with you, but I think my friends and I need to go now.” I push myself up off the floor. 

“Will you come back?” asks the older of the two.

“I’ll try my best,” I tell her before turning and fleeing from the room.  

I race down the stairs, not knowing where I’m going except that I need to get out before I’m sick, reaching the bottom floor before the guys catch me. 

“Mor, are you okay?” asks Patrick. “Forgive me for saying, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Josh throws an elbow into his side before adding, “His words could have been better, but he’s right. One minute you were sitting on the floor and smiling, then your face lost all color, and I thought you were going to pass out.” 

“And you’re shaking,” Matts says, moving to rub his hands up and down my arms. 

I pull in a shuddering breath. “I’m okay,” I say. “There were two little girls in the room who wanted me to play. It was going well until they started to sing a nursery rhyme of some kind. It was about a curse and evil and savior of the family named Morigana.” I shiver again. “It seemed more of a prophecy than a silly made up song.”

The guys are silent for a few minutes, staring at me as I focus on my breathing and calming my pounding heart, and the nausea slowly recedes.

“It had my name in it!” I gasp.

All three of their mouths fall open.

“Maybe this town hasn’t been deserted as long as we thought,” Josh says.

“My family has been watching the town for multiple generations, but I don’t know how many exactly…At least a hundred and fifty years” Patrick trails off. 

“Things are getting interesting,” Matt says, rubbing my back. “I’m glad I came along.”

“I’m glad you came along too,” I tell him. “So what now?”

We glance at each other, then a flicker of movement on the stairs catches my attention. I jerk, still not used to ghosts appearing and disappearing at random.

“I’m guessing we are not alone,” Matt whispers.

I shake my head, watching a woman in a mid-length, dark dress turn to face Matt. “And I don’t think whispering is working. She’s looking at you.”

He shivers slightly before turning to face the stairs. “My apologies, ma’am.” 

The ghost smiles. “He has good manners. I like him. Most people just ignore me. Always have,” the woman says.

“She appreciates you talking to her,” I tell Matt. Then I turn to address her. “I think most people can’t see you.”

“Yes, yes,” she answers. “You never see the help. At least the children haven’t learned that yet. The adults completely ignore me unless they need to order me to do something, but I haven’t seen them in a long time.”

“I’m sorry you were treated that way,” I tell her, stepping closer to the stairs. “Have you been working here for a long time?”

“Yes.” she nods. “I was hired to be the children’s governess. I taught them, bathed them, played with them, and took them to see their parents for a short time every day. But then everything changed.”

I wait to see if she will tell me more before prompting her. “What changed?”

“The twins. They came back,” she whispers.

“Twins?” I ask. “The little girls upstairs?”

“No, those girls are sweet,” the woman answers. “The twins are the progenitors of the O’Byrne family. They had been fighting since the witch trials. I don’t know how they survived everything. I do know Adair’s twin brother turned on her to save himself. She was burned at the stake, but managed to cast a spell, so she didn’t actually die. 

“When she came back, she started fighting with those who betrayed her and split the family in half. Eventually, she passed after she lost her family’s power stone, but it seems that has come to you. 

“Adair was still in Spell’s Hollow that fateful night. In Morfran’s stand against the coven, the brother cursed us to get on his good side.. Used each family members’ magic against us. We were lucky to get some of the youngest children out of town. Putting them outside the wards, so they could come back and break the curses when they were strong enough. The witches who took the children away came back to a land depleted. 

“Now the curses are acting up. There used to be more of us around here. Stuck repeating our days over and over. Never aging. Never changing. But since the last blood moon, people are disappearing. It’s like something is stealing them away, but I don’t think they are crossing over. There’s no light, and if you go near the family crypt, it feels wrong. 

“I keep finding myself walking that way, drawn to it. Whenever I get closer, I feel the wrongness and retreat, but I hear screams and calls for help coming from inside. Voices that sound familiar. I think the missing ghosts are stuck in the crypt and that it is somehow calling to those of us who are left so it can trap more of us.”

Isuck in a deep breath, my mind reeling from everything the ghost woman is telling me. All that death, the pain, and the horror these poor people have been through for centuries… 

“But why would ghosts be getting trapped in the crypts? How does that have anything to do with those twins and the curses? And I saw a ghost crossover just this morning in the garden, so some of them must be able to go?”

The woman shook her head. “It was because of you. You healed the O’Byrne crypt temporarily when you opened it. It released some of the spirits of those trapped inside—those still able to be saved—and gave them the opportunity to move on if they so desired. You met Marsica outside. She told me many have lost their way, the curse’s draw too strong to fight against. It drains their soul, ripping their spirit apart until it’s damaged beyond repair, and they lose their minds. 

“Only those who were extraordinarily strong, or those recently captured, were able to escape through the gap you made for them. Unfortunately, that hasn’t completely destroyed the curse either. I can still feel the pull of evil, just weaker now. I believe it is also coming from the other eight family crypts as well.” 

The woman gestures up the stairs, back toward the room the girls are playing in. “Please, you are the only one left. I wish I did not have to put such a terrible task upon one as young as you, but you are our last chance. Take control of your family’s magic and destroy the curse placed upon us. I fear losing the girls every day. Please, don’t let them get taken away.” 

“I didn’t even know I had magic until a few days ago. How am I supposed to save everyone from something I know nothing about?” I ask, my voice rising with each word as panic clouds my vision. 

“Woah, woah. Easy there.” Matt pulls me back against his chest as Patrick and Josh step in front of me, protecting me from the ghost calmly standing across from them. “What’s going on, Mor? Who are you saving? Is that ghost attacking us or something?”

I blink, feeling comforted by their instant support even against something invisible, like a ghost. Then I reach forward and grab the shoulders of the men in front of me, gently tugging them back from their protective stance. 

“It’s okay. It isn’t like that. She said I healed the crypt a little when I saved Patrick from the vines, then released some of the spirits who were trapped with Josh. But the curse isn’t completely over.”

A headache begins pounding in the back of my skull, and I wince, feeling a little lightheaded from everything accumulating over the past few days. 

“Apparently, I need to heal all the crypts in town fully to stop this family curse. Otherwise, all the spirits will be captured, and their souls will be fuel for the evil to use.” 

“That’s insane. Why should you be the one forced into something like that?” Matt’s voice is incredulous. “It’s not like you had anything to do with what’s happened here. Why should you have to clean it up?”

The ghost woman looks down, a sad smile crossing her face. “I’m sorry, Morrigan. I truly wish there was another way. But you were called here to take on the O’Byrne name and overcome this curse once and for all. It is not something you can walk away from. You’ve suffered from this curse ever since you were conceived, and it only grows stronger with each passing day. One day, it will destroy you, like it has every other O’Byrne.” 

She drifts closer, as if to reach out and touch me, though she holds back when she sees me flinch. “You have the gift; spirit and healing magic flows through your veins. I know you are strong enough to be our savior. Now you must look into your heart and find that truth for yourself.” 

With that, her hand brushes my cheek, and I faint, feeling the arms of my men catching me as my consciousness fades. 

***

“Did you really think you could get away with this? We cannot use our powers for evil, brother! The humans will hunt us down and destroy us if we do.”

I look around, confused. I can hear a male and a female voice arguing, though I don’t recognize them. The night breeze ruffles my hair, and with a start, I realize I’m sitting in the field in the middle of all the houses.

“That’s exactly why we need to do this now. We can fight back, stop them from taking our land, end the persecution of our kind. Our coven is strong. We have the power to back us up if everyone works together.”

It’s dark out, with a red glow in the sky like the night I first felt the call to come find Spells Hollow. I get to my feet and brush away dirt and grass, carefully making my way to the nearest house, where the yelling is coming from. It takes me a few moments to recognize that this gorgeous house is the run-down O’Byrne home that I’ve become used to. Even when I saw the past before, its glory was overshadowed by the horrors of all the deaths. 

“And then what? We don’t murder people. If we start, there will never be an end to it. More and more humans would come to hunt us down. That’s why we’ve always run away; they cannot know we exist.”

On silent feet, I slip up to the front window and peer in, watching two twins argue in the lantern light. I remember the words of Nan from earlier and bite back a gasp. The twins from the story! Where the brother sacrificed his sister and eventually sided with the evil witch who cursed the town. 

My lips twist into a sneer as I glare daggers at the man who took part in creating this terrible tragedy. He is pacing, looking wild and crazed, while she is sitting upright in a chair, her back as stiff as a board and mouth as thin as a hair. Neither looks particularly happy. 

I find myself holding my breath, my nerves flaring with every step he takes. He keeps shooting fearful glances toward the door, and I think back to the story. Could this be the night he betrays his sister to save his own skin? Why then is he trying to convince her to attack the humans first?

“You’ve always been too self-righteous for your own good, sister. The humans don’t care if we would never hurt them. They fear us and desire our power for themselves. You’ve seen it, just as I have. They will not listen to reason or believe our truth. We must strike first if we wish to survive.”

“I am sorry, brother, but I will not turn away from goodness just because you are afraid. We came here to find a sanctuary not start a war. We have always survived when humans forced us out before. This time will be no different if it comes to that.” 

He looks down, an almost pained expression on his face before it hardens into a rage. “It’s too late. I wish you would have listened to me, but then, I never really thought you would. You’ve always been so certain you alone know what’s best for everyone. Sadly, that won’t be the case this time.” 

He walks to the door and steps out, his twin following slowly behind, her eyebrows squishing together as she goes to lay a hand on his shoulder. Her voice is trembling as she blurts out, “what do you mean? What have you done?”

“What you forced me to do.” He turns to face her. “You brought this upon yourself. Just remember that as you take your last breath. But don’t worry, I convinced the coven to go to the forest for a ritual. They shouldn’t have to die for your failure. At least, not if they’re willing to make a better choice.” Then, before she can react, he points at his sister and shouts at the top of his lungs, “Witch! She’s a witch! She’s trying to curse me!” 

In a flash, a dozen rough men are surrounding her, herding her toward a waiting wagon. The air is thick with jeers and the stench of tar, and torches crackle from every which direction. My lungs seize from panic, or perhaps from the smoke that’s filling the square. I want to scream, to cry, to tear the men apart before they can hurt her. But I’m scared to step forward into the midst of the crowd.

The firelight glints off of pitchforks as they back her against the wagon. One grizzled man shoves a rag between her lips and a cheer echoes around us while they fall on her, her knees banging against the hickory planks as they throw her into the wagon and bind her limbs past their limits along the wagon’s frame. 

Tears stream down the woman’s face, yet she never gives up her composure. Her body is bound in such a way to keep her immobilized, ensuring that she can’t weave spells out of the very air or utter some out of her gagged lips. She doesn’t cower from them, nor fight or beg for mercy. She lays there with a quiet dignity that even the witch hunters can’t ignore, their jeers turning into uncomfortable whispers as she calmly awaits her fate. 

All the while, her brother stalks around the wagon, egging the humans on to save his own hide. Who would ever suspect a man could be a witch, too? 

The wagon team begins to move, carrying my ancestor away to wherever they’re taking her. There’s talk amongst the men about lighting the wagon on fire once they get there, and my stomach rolls. If I jumped up, if I ran over to the wagon and cut her loose, or reasoned with these men, could I stop everything that happens? Can I stop all those miserable deaths? The dark, cursed energy that covers this town? 

I steady myself. I have to try. Even if this is just a dream, I can’t just sit back and do nothing. I push myself to my feet, and suddenly I’m elsewhere in the forest, in a place I’ve never seen before. In front of me is the wagon, alone, and burning. 

I gag. My knees buckle, and I bend over, emptying the contents of my stomach as I picture the regal woman tied in the inferno, a woman who stoically stood by her principles even in the face of death, betrayed by her own brother. 

“No!” The word bursts out from somewhere deep inside of me, a primal, desperate cry for release from the horrid wrongness of this monstrous act.

“Do not fret, child. There was nothing you could do.” 

I gasp, hearing her voice right next to me. I look up, and she’s there, covered in soot, yet looking…peaceful. Like she hasn’t just been burned alive. 

“The past is set in stone and cannot be changed, no matter how much you wish it. The future is full of endless chances yet to come. Trust in yourself, be true to your emotions, and let your instincts find the way.” 

She smiles, gently cupping my cheek as a warm wind seems to circle around us, relaxing my body until my eyes can barely stay open. A magic befitting the founder of the O’Byrnes. 

“Look into your heart, Morrigan. You will find the answers have been there all along.” 

***

When I come to, I’m lying on a blanket in the rundown living room of my ancestors’ home, three men and four ghosts peering down at me with varying levels of worry on their faces. This time I’m not cold; the warmth from the woman is still wrapping around me. 

“How long was I out this time?” I rasp as I push myself to a sitting position, my mouth dry and my head pounding. Quoth squawks as he flaps a few steps away, having been on my stomach until I moved. 

“Only thirty minutes. How are you feeling?” Patrick asks. He puts his hand behind my back, helping me stay upright. 

Matt flashes me a grin, squeezing my shoulder. 

“Josh grabbed a blanket from his backpack, and we brought you in here. I guess you decided to start the camp-out early.”

“Something like that.” I chuckle ruefully. I nod my thanks as Josh hands me a bottle of water, the refreshing liquid shaking the last bit of malaise away. “Can I help you guys?” I glance at the ghosts, who all seem relieved that I’m all right. 

The young boy grabs the hands of the two girls, leading them back up the stairs, while their governess stays behind. 

“There are ghosts here still?” Matt asks, then shakes his head. “Of course there are, why am I surprised? Can’t you vultures just leave her alone for a few minutes? She’s had enough of your kind right now.”

She ignores him, staring at me. “I hope you were able to find some answers while you were asleep. Until your power stabilizes, dream state is where you will be most powerful.” 

She turns, pausing at the doorway to glance back over her shoulder at us. 

“You and your mates are free to make yourselves at home here. We don’t usually have any other visitors, but your best chance of avoiding roaming spirits will be in the study. The original O’Byrne wards are still up around that room, so none of us can cross the threshold. Do try to get some rest. You’ll need all your strength for the coming days.” 

With that final declaration she leaves, and I slump into Patrick, happy to snuggle into his broad cheat. 

“Boy, do I have a lot to catch you all up on.”

After moving all our items to the study, we make our way outside to make a small fire and cook some food. I also use the time to share everything the governess told me. To say the guys were stunned by all the new information would be an understatement. When I finish, we sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at one another. 

“So what’s the plan?” asks Matt. “Do we stay and try to defeat the curse, or do we walk away and pretend nothing up here ever happened?” He’s picking apart dinner as he speaks, holding them out for Quoth to take. “No attacking me cause you’re hungry, okay buddy?” He whispers.

“What do all of you think?” I ask. “My mind is spinning with reasons for both options.”

They look between each other before Josh finally speaks up. “You know I’m always up for an adventure. I say we stay and see what we can do. What’s the worst that can happen? I get sucked into a crypt again?” He laughs darkly, but no one else joins in. 

“If this curse has been around for so long,” Patrick starts, “it’s powerful and would be hard to beat. I don’t think it’s worth the risk to you or us to take. I know my family has been tied here for generations, but there has to be someone better qualified to take on this curse. I could talk to my parents and see if we can get the coven involved. I don’t think it has to be you.”

I look at Matt, who is sitting next to me. “I think we are all here for you, no matter what,” he says. “And while we may be in danger, it is you who will be in the most danger. So it is your choice, and I will follow whichever you choose.” He grabs my hand and brushes a gentle kiss across my knuckles.

Josh and Patrick both agree with Matt, promising to follow my lead as they have been, whether I decide to stay or to go. 

“So…” prompts Matt. “Can you share what’s going on in that head of yours?” 

I nod, twisting my fingers together as I feel my nerves start to get the better of me. “I am honestly stuck in the middle. Yes, so far it seems like something bigger is at work here. The dreams, the ghosts, the pull to come here… How, after all this time, things from Spells Hollow ended up in the archives. It seems like this is fate or destiny or whatever else you want to call it. 

“But this curse has been around so long… It can’t be a completely destructive force since some of the ghosts are still here and are avoiding the pull of the crypts. I can’t control my magic. Hell, I can’t even feel my magic most of the time. It seems impossible that I am the best one to break this curse and save this town or coven. Like maybe in a few years, once I’ve had time to practice and to gain control of my powers, maybe then I could come back and see if the curse is still in place or what I could do then.” I push myself off the ground and start pacing back and forth. 

“But Nan was so convincing. She said it had to be me. That they are running out of time or something. And my ancestor seems to think I can do it. Why she’d trust me, I don’t know, but it’s nice to know she has faith in me.” 

A gentle wind brushes my cheek in a caress that reminds of the one she gave me in the field. I smile softly, cupping my hand to my cheek. 

“I can’t promise I’m going to be successful, but I have to try. For myself. For my ancestors. For the poor ghosts who are being tormented in their afterlife instead of getting to move on in peace.” I stop pacing, spinning to face the three men still seated around the fire. Smiles are spread across each face.

“So where do we start?” asks Josh, pulling his food from the fire. 

“I have no idea,” I answer, plopping back onto the grass and nudging my food free as well. 

“Well, doesn’t one of us know how magic works?” asks Matt, looking at Patrick, who is parting the flames around his lunch to make pulling it out easier. 

“I know how mine works,” Patrick answers. “But I’m not high enough in the coven to be tasked with teaching the young ones. I only know how I was taught.”

“Well, that sounds like more than any of the rest of us know,” Josh quips. “So I guess we base whatever we can on your training.”

Patrick chews his food before nodding. “Okay. We can get started training Mor’s magic after we eat.” He cuts his eyes to me, “If you feel up to it.” 

I nod again. “Yep. I’m up to it. I have to be.”

“You can rest if you need to,” Matt says, reaching over and giving my hand a squeeze. 

“Yeah, there’s no shame in wanting to take a day. You did just pass out for the second time in the last twenty-four hours,” Josh adds. “These ghosts have been waiting centuries. Another day or two won’t hurt them.”

“That’s assuming I can get my magic to work right on the first day of training,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And I doubt that will happen.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Josh encourages. “How long do young witches normally train?” He turns to face Patrick. 

Patrick drops his face toward the ground and rubs the back of his neck. “Two to five years for most. The fastest I’ve heard of someone gaining control of their magic was about nine months, but everyone believes her parents gave her some foundational knowledge before her powers manifested.” He looks up, his cheeks tinged red. 

“Years?!” I squeak. “I don’t think we have years to get this figured out.” I shake my head. “No, nope, I don’t know. I wanted to help them, but this makes me think it’s impossible.” 

“We won’t know until we try,” Patrick says. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“You aren’t alone,” Matt reminds me. “And we will support you. Why don’t you try to see what you can learn, and if it’s too hard, we will let Patrick see what his coven can do.” 

“Back up plans are good,” I murmur to myself. “Okay,” I say louder. “I’ll try. We will give it a week, and if I can’t break the curse, we will see if the coven can do something.” 

We finish the meal quietly, all lost in our own thoughts about what the future holds for us. 

* * *

I’m back in the middle of the grass between the house and crypt, but this time instead of just Patrick standing across from me, Josh and Matt are here as well. 

We spent time collecting sticks and other yard debris of various sizes. Patrick says the coven has training bars that go up in size to challenge the witch’s power that are able to withstand the various forces, but beggars can’t be choosers. 

“Tell me again how I’m supposed to what… talk to the sticks and rocks? Heal the sticks and rocks?” I ask, eyeing the pile skeptically. 

Patrick laughs. “You don’t.”

“Then why did we spend time finding all this?” asks Josh. 

“There is more to earth powers than just healing and more to spirit than just speaking with ghosts.” Patrick shrugs like that should be obvious. 

“Like…” Matt prompts. “You are the only one who has done this training before.”

“Sorry, it’s easy to forget you three didn’t grow up knowing all this,” Patrick apologizes. “We will be focusing on earth powers first. I doubt either of you want to give up your will and control of your body—” He cuts off as both of them splutter. “Yeah, that gets into the spirit power, but earth can be used to reshape the earth, cause earthquakes, move where rivers flow, build a mountain. If someone is powerful enough, there’s not much they can’t do.” 

We all stare at him, our mouths hanging open. 

“Do you mean to say that Morrigan is going to be able to make new mountains or destroy some that already exist with her mind?” asks Matt. “I don’t know whether to think that is awesome or terrifying.”

“Not her mind. Her magic,” Patrick answers. “But yes to creating and destroying mountains. Not soon, but one day. I think her magic is strong enough that she could.” 

“Yeah, that’s never going to happen,” I say. “I don’t want to be responsible for something like that!” 

“It would take years of training to reach that level,” Patrick reassures me. “Today, we simply want to see this pile move. A little wiggle would be great.” 

He has Josh and Matt sort them into piles by size, then points at the smallest of the piles. 

“Start with these,” he instructs. “Find your magic and draw it up. Tell it you want the ground under that pile to move.” 

I nod, taking a deep breath and centering myself. I find the little warm spot hiding deep inside and poke at it. Nothing happens. I try talking to it mentally, asking if it will come out. No luck. I dig my mind into the little ball and pull hard, doing my best to force the magic up. It stays firmly tucked away deep inside. 

I let out a sigh and open my eyes. “It’s not working,” I say. “I’ve tried everything I can think of to get my magic to rise to the surface, but it won’t budge.”

Quoth grabs one stack in his talons, strewing them around the ground as if to show me what I’m supposed to be doing.

“Just keep trying,” Josh suggests. “Didn’t you say it took a little while last time to get it to respond?”

“It did,” I concede. 

“What did you do last time?” asks Matt. 

I look at Patrick, thinking back. “I don’t know. I tried and nothing happened, then I was ready to give up. Patrick talked to me and then, like a switch was flipped, it was there, and it was responding. And as quickly as it came on, it went away again.” I shrug. 

“He talked to you?” asks Josh. “Well, start talking, pretty boy.”

Patrick laughs at the jab. He starts in on his pep talk, but no matter how much he talks, my magic stays right where it is. 

“Are you sure all you did was talk?” asks Josh. 

Patrick and I make quick eye contact, then look away. 

“There may have been a few kisses as well,” Patrick adds. “They weren’t planned or anything, but…” He raises his hands out to his side. 

“I volunteer for that job!” Matt chimes in. “If Mor will have me.”

“Yes, I’ll have you,” I tell him, stepping closer. 

He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me to him until I am pressed against his chest. He leans in, eyes locked on my lips. Pressing onto my toes, I take control, claiming his lips with mine. He groans as his tongue snakes out and battles mine for control. 

Time seems to lose all meaning as my world narrows to the two of us and the sensations running up through my body. Most are familiar to me, but then I feel something I’ve only felt one other time. 

I pull back and look at all three men. “It’s back. My magic is back!”

“Well, that’s interesting.” Josh chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets as he leans back and lets out a low wolf whistle. “I think we’ll need to do some extensive testing on this theory later, but for now, get your sexy ass over here and show us what you can do.” He winks, doing a Vanna wave towards the smallest pile of junk. 

I steady myself, reaching inside me for the now-pliable ball of magic. I aim, picturing the pile shaking around in a mini earthquake as my magic travels up my arm and out through my fingertips. This time there’s nothing stopping its path, and the magic rushes out, the teal tendrils curling about at my command.

The smallest pile dances across the ground. 

“Good,” calls Patrick. “Now see if you can move up through the sizes.” 

I nod, not wanting to stop thinking about my magic and risk it going dormant again. Turning my head slightly, I eye the next pile, asking my magic to move the ground under the pile. The ground rumbles and shakes, moving not only that pile but all the piles around us. The shaking continues growing stronger the longer it lasts. The guys lose their footing, landing on the ground. 

I gasp, trying to pull back. Asking my magic to stop, to return to me. My feet slip out from under me. My back smarts from where I land, but the ground stills. I sigh in relief. 

“Well, that was impressive,” Patrick tells me. “I knew you were powerful, but it seems to have dimmed.”

I quickly scan inside, finding my magic tucked away again. “Yeah. It’s gone back to ignoring me. It’s like as soon as I finish a spell, it stops listening.” 

Patrick hums. “That’s not something I’ve heard of before.”

“Didn’t you mention a book?” asks Matt.

“Yes. We found my family’s grimoire,” I tell him. “I’ve read most of it to see if it would help.”

“Can I take a look?” he asks. “Finding more gems didn’t pan out, but maybe I’ll catch something you missed or didn’t know was important at the time.” 

I nod, pushing myself up and going to my bag. I find the grimoire in the bottom, fishing it out and passing it over. “I hope you can find something, because it feels like we are right there to figuring this out if we could just get that one last piece.”

He moves over to the side, where a downed log sits, leaning back on it and propping the book on his knees. 

“Are you ready to go again?” asks Patrick. 

“Do we really want to? It wouldn’t stop when I wanted it to. Is there something less destructive we can try?” I let my arms flop to my side.

“It’s part of the process,” Patrick reassures me. “Most young witches have trouble calling up their powers, but it’s not a far leap that you are having trouble turning yours off.”

“And,” Josh cuts in. “We are all fine, and it doesn’t look like you caused any big issues. The ground didn’t even crack open.” 

“Haha,” I deadpan. “Let’s not plant that idea in my head.”

“Just remember you control the magic, not the other way around,” Patrick tells me, walking over to stand next to me. “And Josh is right. The worst damage that happened was some bruises. It was well controlled for someone so new to magic.”

I force a smile before looking at the stuff strewn all over the area we are practicing in. “I appreciate the confidence, but do you think there’s another form of earth I can practice?”

Patrick looks around, cocking his head back and forth as he thinks. “I guess we could try building the earth up.” He shrugs. “It may be useful in knocking the crypts off their foundations if we get stuck.” 

“That sounds a little safer.” I nod. “What are the chances that I am going to make a mountain or even a hill? Heck, I’ll be happy with a molehill.” I laugh at my own joke. 

“I’m guessing it’s the same thing as before. Focus on what I want and shape the magic to my will. Just ask the earth to form a hill?” I glance at Patrick. He nods. “Well, here goes nothing.”

I close my eyes and reach inside, finding my magic is still tucked away. “Shit.” I pop my eyes open and look around. “Ugh! My magic still isn’t responding.”

“I’m happy to be of service,” Josh offers me with a mocking bow. “I do believe I’m the only one who hasn’t had the pleasure of helping you free your magic.”

I snort but move closer to him. “If you insist,” I answer. 

Josh wraps his arms around me, supporting me as he dips me backwards. His mouth lands on mine more tentatively than I would have expected, considering how boldly he grabbed me.

I smile and run my tongue along the seam of his lips. He doesn’t open for me, instead moving his mouth down to my neck, licking and sucking the sensitive spot behind my ear. I shiver as the heat inside me moves lower. I wish I could squeeze my thighs together, but I don’t want to risk falling down. 

Moans and gasps fall from my mouth as my arms tighten around his neck. My fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck and pull, forcing his mouth to release me. My eyes blaze with heat as I drag him back to my mouth, attacking him with a fervor I didn’t know I possessed. 

The sound of a throat clearing breaks us apart. Josh rights me, and I spin to see Matt has stopped reading and is watching the two of us. 

“As entertaining as that was”—he smiles—“I think I’ve found something.” 

I hurry over to his side and drop down next to him. Patrick and Josh move to stand behind the log we are leaning on. 

“There’s a section here about magic being tied to emotion. The higher the emotion, the more powerful the magic. It also says that your emotions can affect the outcomes of the magic. Negative emotions can cause darker magic, and positive emotions can cause light magic.”

“I should have realized that,” mutters Patrick. “We are taught from before we have magic to never cast out of anger. There are so many horror stories of people causing irreversible harm over small spats because they let their emotions get the best of them.”

I inhale sharply. “Irreversible harm?! And you’re just now mentioning it!”

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Patrick says with a small shrug. “I figured we’d get to that part eventually, but you don’t seem mad, so I figured that could be a problem for another day.”

“I could have hurt one of you?!” My voice rises. 

“But you didn’t,” answers Matt. “Not even close.” 

I turn and look between the three of them, all in one piece and all offering me encouragement. 

“Could fear affect someone’s magic?” Josh asks. 

Patrick thinks for a minute before nodding. “I think it could. If there’s enough fear, especially fear of your magic, I could see that causing it to freeze.”

“Like the flight, fight, or freeze when people panic but with magic.” Matt nods.

“Yeah, but how does kissing you help me unlock my magic?” I ask. 

“It looks like your mind wanders away from the magic and toward more fun and private activities,” Matt says. My face heats. “Maybe getting your mind to focus more on your body and less on your fear is the key to unlocking your magic.”

“But why would it go away after I cast a spell?”

“You looked terrified when the ground was shaking,” Patrick reminds me. “And it didn’t go away after one spell last time. The small pile was moved quickly and easily. Then you focused on the larger piles, which is where it seemed to move out of your control, and your fear took over.” 

“So as long as Mor isn’t afraid, her magic will work?” Josh asks. 

“Maybe…” says Patrick. “Hopefully. Are you feeling your magic now?”

I nod. “I am. But why are we practicing on sticks and rocks when we have eight more crypts to open? Shouldn’t we try to open them?”

“Do you think you’re ready?” Patrick asks. 

“As ready as I can be on such a short timeline,” I answer. 

“Matt and I found one not far from the tree.” Josh points. “We could start with that one.” 

We all agree and walk over until we see the outline of the crypt in the distance. 

“Okay, everyone, keep an eye out. We know the O’Byrne crypt was protected by living vines. Who knows if this one will be the same, or if it will have something else protecting it or nothing at all,” Patrick says. 

“Would we be lucky enough that it is nothing at all?” asks Josh.

“I doubt it,” I say. 

“Curses are like all other magic. They take on different threats based on the caster’s feelings. If he especially disliked one family or thought one maybe on his side, their crypt could be different,” Patrick explains.

We slowly creep forward, watching each step for vines or flowers that may spring alive and try to eat us. 

We reach the front with nothing jumping up from the ground to grab us. I sigh in relief, thinking something is finally going our way. 

“Would you like to do the honors?” asks Josh, standing at the back of the group. 

I walk forward, then reach out and grasp the handle. I tug, but the door doesn’t give. 

“What the hell?!” I hear Matt yell as the air fills with squawks. I spin, seeing all three guys being attacked by a flock of ravens.

I run toward them, flapping my arms like I do when I’m shooing Quoth away, hoping they will take the gentle hint. “Where did these guys come from?”

“I’m guessing the curse,” Matt answers. “They just appeared and started attacking when you touched the door.”

I duck and hiss as one of the birds drags its beak down my arm. 

“What do we do now?” Josh calls. He’s found a stick somewhere and is swinging it around, keeping the birds away from himself. 

“Morrigan needs to open the door,” Patrick calls, holding a ball of fire in each hand. Even cursed birds are scared of fire and keep pulling out of dives toward him. 

“How?” I yell, ducking again to avoid a beak to the eye. 

A familiar squawk joins the chaos and I glance skyward seeing Quoth’s familiar form flying into the fray. He claws and bites the bird taking them out faster than the guys. 

“Just like we practiced,” Patrick answers. “Focus on your magic and see if you can shake the ground hard enough to shake the door open.”

“Seriously?!” I call back. “How am I supposed to focus on my magic while I’m being attacked?”

“You’ll have to trust us to protect you,” Matt says, moving closer to me. The other two follow suit, creating a small circle of protection. Quoth lands softly on my shoulder, nuzzling my cheek before taking to the air around me. 

I take a deep breath and try to find my magic. I can feel it, but it doesn’t want to move. Closing my eyes and turning my mind away from the birds, I find the little ball. It answers my pleas eagerly. I direct it into the ground near where I think the door is. The ground trembles slightly. I keep my magic flowing. 

“Can you push more power?” Patrick asks. He tries to sound calm, but I can hear him panting from his effort of fighting off the ravens. 

I push more power through myself. I can feel the ground rocking beneath me like I’m on a boat in a storm. The bird’s calls are louder. I want to cover my ears but force myself to focus.

Wood creaks somewhere in front of me, and the birds’ attack reaches a peak. I feel claws tangle and rip into my hair and tug at my clothes. 

I scream as I push all the power I can find in myself into shaking loose the door. 

There’s a loud pop, then silence. 

I sink to the ground, utterly exhausted.  

Matt picks me up, cradling me against this chest. I smile drowsily, fighting to keep my eyes open. 

“Did we do it?” I murmur.

“You did,” he answers, brushing a kiss over my forehead. 

I hear voices in the background but can’t force myself to pay attention to what they are saying. I vaguely feel myself being carried somewhere but I trust Matt and the others to take care of me, allowing my thoughts to drift. 

The light behind my eyelids darkens, and I blink my eyes open and realize we are back inside the O’Byrne manor. Making our way back to the study, Matt sits me down on the pallet we set up earlier. 

Josh settles on the floor next to me, grabbing a granola bar and pressing it into my hands. “How do you feel?” When I don’t move to open the bar, he does it for me before pushing it back into my hand. “Eat.”

I take a small nibble. “Really tired, but hey, it could have been worse. I didn’t pass out this time. That has to count for something, right?” 

Patrick facepalms where he stands at the edge of the room. 

“What?”

“It does mean you’re getting stronger in your magic, but it still shouldn’t drain you this much. We’re still missing a piece to unlocking it completely.” He moves closer, finding his own place on the blanket. “I was using fire to fight the birds, and I’m still moving. You can’t keep going like this. It could burn your magic out.” 

“So she wouldn’t be a witch?” asks Matt. 

Patrick shakes his head, looking down at the floor. “No, she wouldn’t be a witch anymore if she burns out,” he answers quietly.

“That’s not the worst thing,” Josh says, squeezing my shoulder. “We’ll still be here for you, with or without your magic.”

“She won’t be a witch, because she won’t be alive,” Patrick says. 

Silence reigns as we process this news. 

“Well, damn,” I say. “That’s not good.”

“Not good at all,” Matt whispers. 

“But there has to be another way, right?” asks Josh, looking between Patrick and me. 

“We will think of something,” Patrick says. “Maybe I should reach out to the coven and see if any of our elders have an idea.”

“That could be a good idea.” I notice movement at the door. “The governess is back. I think she has something to say.” 

I rise somewhat unsteadily to my feet. The guys stay put—not that they would hear what she has to say, anyway—and I make my way out of the warded room. 

She turns and walks across the hall to the living room with me trailing in her wake. When we are almost in the kitchen, she spins around to face me. 

“You are making good progress, Morrigan. You are living up to the O’Byrne name.” She raises her hand toward my cheek but stops short of touching me. 

“Thank you,” I tell her. “Does it feel different to you?”

“It does.” She nods. “There was a brief lull, but the curse is now calling stronger than before. It used to only really call to us if we got near the crypts. I kept the girls safe by convincing them that outside wasn’t safe and we could just play inside instead. Timmy wouldn’t go for it, but I think he’s helped you, so maybe it’s for the best.” 

“Would Timmy be the young boy who was here when I woke up last time?”

“He is. He’s a good boy. He was the cook’s son and helped out wherever he could to earn extra money, but he was never one of my charges, so he decided the new rule didn’t apply to him. But before they brought you back in, I caught the girls almost at the back door.” She raises a translucent hand to her mouth, stifling a sob. “They were trying to go outside. They said they could hear other children playing and calling for them. They had to go. If I had been even thirty seconds later, they would have been trapped. I just know it.”

“I’m glad you were able to save them,” I tell her sincerely. “But I feel like you have more to say.”

She steps closer to me. “You are running out of time, Morrigan. The curse knows it is under attack and is trying to power itself by trapping any of us who are left. You need to end this before it consumes all of us and goes after anything living around here.”

“I want to,” I tell her. “My magic doesn’t want to respond when I call it. When it does, it works for a spell or two before locking itself away again. We are going to reach out to the closest coven and see if they have any ideas on how to unlock my magic.”

“I fear you don’t have time for that,” she says. “How have you unlocked it before?”

My face flushes in embarrassment. “Ummm… When I’m with one of the guys, it can, uh, get my mind off the fear of my magic and focused on other emotions. But that only seems to be a temporary patch.”

“Can you do more?” she asks. “Make those emotions bigger and see if that will open up your powers?”

I snort, thinking about getting magic—and love, apparently—advice from a ghost, but agree. “I have an idea, but I’ll need to talk to the guys. And you should keep the girls upstairs for a while.” 

“Of course,” she nods. “It’s probably safer they stay upstairs, anyway.” She turns and fades away through the wall. 

* * *

Walking back into the study, I’m met with three sets of eyes tracking me. I fill them in quickly on how the curse seems to be making a last-ditch effort to strengthen itself to make it harder to defeat. 

I finally get to my idea of how to unlock my magic. “If a make-out session is enough to unlock for a little bit, I think if we went further, it could unlock my powers more fully.” I drop my eyes to the floor, not used to being the one who makes the first move. 

“Are you suggesting sex?” asks Josh, wiggling his eyebrows. 

I nod.

“Is this something you want, or do you feel like you have to?” asks Matt. “I don’t want you to regret our first time.” 

My head jerks up to meet his eyes. “I want it. I like all of you. Hell, I love you, even if it is too soon in a relationship to say it. And yes, I hope it will help, but even if it doesn’t, I won’t regret it.” 

Patrick, who hasn’t said anything since I came back in, comes behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “We don’t have to do anything. The governess could be wrong. We can go to the coven.” 

I turn my head to look at him. “We can. After this,” I tell him. “I want this.” 

I lean forward, pressing my mouth to the corner of his. For a moment, he’s as still as a statue and doubts start to fill my mind. What if he doesn’t really want this? It’s not like we’ve known each other for very long, and now I’m forcing myself on him. I pull back. 

Suddenly Patrick’s arms are wrapping around me, crushing me into his chest as his lips crash into mine. “Mor, sweet cheeks, how can I resist when you’re this adorable?” he whispers against my skin, peppering my neck with kisses while he slides his hands down to grip my hips. 

“Don’t forget about us, sweetheart,” Josh mutters from behind me. His voice is husky with need, and I shudder under his touch as he slowly peels my shirt over my head, tossing it off to the side. “Can we play, too, or do you want to do this one at a time? We’re yours to command.” 

“Yes, please.” I gasp, arching into Josh. “I want to feel all of you.”

The guys grin, pressing closer to me until I’m surrounded by a wall of men, their shirts practically disintegrating from the mouth-watering muscles. 

Patrick grabs my wrist and brings it to his chest, pressing my palm to his heart, and his eyes flutter shut. “You drive me crazy, Morrigan. I would give anything to keep you looking at me like this for the rest of our lives.” 

“Hey, let the rest of us in on the fun,” Matt teases, nudging Patrick over a little bit so my attention flies to him. “There she is…” He breathes out a sigh. “I could get lost in your eyes forever, babe. Make sure you keep them on me while you’re screaming my name, hmm?” 

As Matt talks, I can feel Josh chuckle behind me, ruffling the hair at the nape of my neck. His tongue flicks out to taste my neck while his hands work my pants off, dropping them to pool around my feet and leaving me in my underwear before the three ravenous men. 

I don’t have time to feel embarrassed before Matt drops to his knees and hooks my leg over his shoulder as he proceeds to nuzzle into my thigh. He sucks in a deep breath, winking up at me. “You ready for this?” Never looking away from my face, Matt kisses me, using his tongue to work my underwear against me in a way that drives me mad. 

I moan at the friction of fabric working itself against my heated pussy, my head falling back against Josh’s chest as I lose myself to the pleasure. My hands grasp for purchase, and I thread them through his thick, black hair. 

“That’s it. Let us take care of you, Mor.”

Hands dance over my body, cupping my breasts, twisting and pinching my nipples, driving me into a mindless frenzy. Matt pushes my panties to the side, then slides a finger along my slit, the touch light and teasing. 

“Please,” I whine, pushing my hips into him. “I’m going crazy, Matt. Please, I need you.” 

“Shh. I’ve got you, babe. I promise to make you feel good, all right? Just stay with me.” Matt presses his tongue against me, this time without the barrier of fabric between us, and my knees threaten to buckle. He presses little kisses all over my center, finding his way to play with my clit, writing a melody with his tongue that makes my whole body sing. 

“Oh my gosh, yes. Right there.” 

I pant, worked up from the other two men who haven’t stopped their examinations of my body, worked up from all the kisses from earlier, worked up from having three wet-dreams-come-to-life standing here shirtless in front of me, worked up from having the attention of kind men who are convinced my brand of crazy is actually something wonderful. 

Josh drags my head to the side, slanting our mouths together as his tongue darts between my parted lips to explore. I moan into his mouth and buck my hips against Matt’s mouth, wanting more. 

“Not so fast.” Patrick’s hands find my hips again, tightening around them until I can’t move. His mouth closes over my nipple, and an electric charge shoots straight to my pussy. I squirm beneath their hold. “Do you trust us, sweet cheeks?”

“Yes,” I answer immediately. 

Patrick groans against my breast. “You’re so perfect for us, Mor. I want to do so many dirty things to you.” His teeth graze along my taut peak, and I gasp into Josh’s mouth. “Such a good girl for us.”

Matt takes advantage of my immobilization, slowly sinking a finger inside my pussy. He strokes my walls, and I bite back a moan, overwhelmed with all the pleasure flooding my body. 

“So good.” The words drop from my lips like a curse, and Matt grins up at me, adding a second finger, slowly pulsing in and out of me. He spreads his fingers open, stretching me. 

I whimper, and Patrick and Josh jump to work, using their talented hands and mouths to distract me. 

Soon Matt’s fingers are pumping steadily into my core, and he curls them against my g-spot, making me see stars. His mouth works against my clit in time with his thrusts, while Josh continues kissing me, his hands holding me in place. Patrick moves down beside Matt, nipping and sucking my hip bones until I’m shaking in their arms. 

“I’m close!” I pant, feeling my orgasm rushing toward me like a freight train. “Please don’t stop. Please, I—”

“That’s it, Mor, fall apart for us.”

Matt picks up the pace, his fingers flicking into me faster. I grind my hips into his touch, chasing my release. Just as it reaches the crest, Matt adds a third finger while Josh pinches my nipples. I cry out, shuddering as wave after wave of my orgasm washes over me, and I fall apart into the arms of the three people I love most in the world.

Iblink the haze from my eyes after coming down from several more world-shattering orgasms to see all three men lying on the pallet around me. I drool a little at the still-naked bodies on display, all of us still touching each other, and have to remind myself that I couldn’t survive any more playtime right now. 

I try to subtly stretch, not wanting to wake anyone else and feel a sting between my thighs. Maybe we were a little rougher than I remembered. 

A kiss on my hip drags my eyes down to meet Josh’s. “Hey, babe, how are you feeling?”

“Like I just had the best night of my life,” I whisper. “We should do it again. Just not right now. I need a day or two to recover.”

Another set of hands starts to roam over my body, our conversation enough to stir the other two as well. 

“Well, that was something.” Matt smiles up at me. 

“Yeah,” I agree. “It was.”

“Not to burst our cozy little bubble,” Patrick says, “but do you notice anything different? It feels like you have more magic now.”

I close my eyes, turning my focus inward and gasp. My magic is flowing around like bubbles, filling any empty space it can find. It’s so different, I wonder how I didn’t realize it immediately. 

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper before trying to describe it to the others. My eyes blur as I blink away the happy tears. 

“You’re glowing.” Matt’s voice is full of awe. He hovers his hand over my arms. 

“Yeah, I’m really happy,” I tell him. “I don’t know how I lived before this.”

“No, Mor,” Josh says. “Look down. You are actually glowing.”

My eyes drop, and I gasp. 

“Well, that was unexpected.” Patrick laughs. “I’ve heard of the powerful witches glowing from their power, but never thought I’d see it myself.”

“As awesome as this moment is,” Josh says. “Does this help us with breaking the curse?”

“One way to find out.” I close my eyes, ready to try to summon magic to make the leaves around us float, when a hand landing on my arm makes me jump.

“I love the enthusiasm, but maybe we should go outside before you start playing with magic. We don’t want to knock the house down,” Patrick reminds me. 

We get redressed and leave the study. Entering the backyard, I see Timmy walking out into the yard. I hurry my steps to catch up to the young ghost. He’s staring straight ahead, eyes fixed on something I can’t see. 

“Timmy,” I say, hoping to gain his attention. No luck. “Timmy!” I call louder. He doesn’t respond. He’s steadily moving toward whatever is calling him. 

I reach out, not sure it will work, and close my hand around his arm. Timmy goes to step but jerks to a stop. His head slowly turns and looks down at the hand somehow holding on to his arm. He blinks a few times before he seems to see me. 

“How are you holding me?” he asks. 

“I’m not sure,” I tell him, letting my arm fall back to my side.

“But you touched me, and you didn’t pass out,” he says. “That’s new. And why are we outside?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “We were coming outside, and I saw you walking through the field. After talking to Nan earlier, something just seemed off. I tried to talk to you, but it was like you couldn’t hear me. You were focused on something out there, but I couldn’t see anything that would be calling to you. I acted on instinct and hoped for the best.” 

“Well, however you did it, thank you,” Timmy says. “I don’t know what came over me, but I think it would have been bad. I think I should be getting back inside, though, just to be safe.” Timmy turns and floats across the field, disappearing through the door and back into the O'Byrne manor. 

I make my way back to where the guys are waiting for me, recounting what happened and how instinct had led to me grabbing Timmy and being able to stop him from walking. 

“Guess that answers the question of if your powers expanded,” Matt says. “Being able to touch ghosts seems like a big jump up.” 

“It’s a good first step, but let’s not celebrate too soon,” Patrick advises. 

“What do you think we should try?” I ask. 

“How about creating a small hill?” Josh says. “Wasn’t that something you brought up last time?”

“Yep,” Patrick and I answer at the same time. 

I close my eyes, smiling as the bubbles bounce around inside, ready to do my bidding. Cracking my eyelids open, I focus on the ground in the middle of our group, imagining a string sticking up that I can pull. With the briefest of thoughts, the ground responds, rising to the size of an anthill. I don’t feel any strain from the magic. I pull again, and again, the ground responds, rising higher. 

“That’s really good,” Patrick says. “But how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” I tell him. “I could keep going. I can’t sense any drops in my magic or my energy. I think I’m as ready as I can be to go face this curse and end it once and for all.”

“Yeah!” cheers Josh. “How are we going to do that?”

I chew on my lip. “I’m not sure,” I admit, looking at the other two. “Do either of you have any thoughts?”

“A lot,” answers Matt, “but not about this.” 

I roll my eyes. “Not helpful.”

Patrick points toward the edge of the woods. “I’d say let’s start walking the tree line and see if we can find the other crypts. As we do, you can open them. Well, until you get too tired or your magic starts to fade again.”

“Okay.” I nod. “It’s the only plan we’ve got, so let’s try it.” 

We head to the edge of the property and start around the circle, passing both the crypts I had already opened.

As we reach the next one, a shiver races down my spine, and I freeze. “Do you feel that?” I ask. 

Josh and Matt both say no, but Patrick says he can feel something off, like a heavy weight has landed on his shoulders. 

“I think Nan was right, and the curse is getting stronger,” I tell them. “We need to be careful. I couldn’t feel it at the other crypts until we were trying to open them, but this one is already trying to reach us.” 

We slow our pace, checking the ground and the trees for any traps that may jump out at us. We stop a few feet from the doors. Nothing has moved. The air around us is so still, it almost seems like we shouldn’t breathe.

“Any thoughts?” I whisper. “This seems too easy.”

“Slow and steady,” Patrick advises. “See if you can stretch your magic out and reach the door.”

I nod, calling my magic forward with a thought and sending it toward the sealed door before us. It rushes out, pushing into the stone. The second my magic touches it, a line of fire streaks back down the connection, burning my arm. I scream and cut off the flow. The skin on my arm bubbles with angry blisters. 

“Mor!” Josh yells, running forward. 

The fire jumps from me to him, almost like it can sense when someone comes close. Patrick jumps in front of Josh, calling his own fire up to block the attacking flames. 

Josh grabs my good arm and drags me back a few steps until the flames stop tracking our movement. When it seems to have settled, Patrick sets a wall of flame in front of it before coming back to the rest of us. 

“Babe,” breathes Matt, “Oh my God! How are you still standing?” 

I look down at my arm. The skin is turning an ugly black color around the blisters. I’m worried about why I’m not feeling pain, but then the blisters start to shrink, the skin healing and changing as we watch, until my arm is back to how it was. 

“That’s even more impressive than the first time,” Josh says, reaching out to gently poke at my arm. 

Patrick’s wall of flame hisses, drawing our attention back to where the cursed fire pushes through the protection and comes toward us. 

“I don’t think slow-and-steady is going to work,” I yell, pushing the other three behind me. 

Patrick agrees, coming up to stand beside me, reminding he also has magic to help fight back. “We need to attack it at the root,” he says. “I don’t think it is going to let us fight it little by little.”

“At the root?” I ask, pulling a wall of earth in front of us to block the fire. It’s effortless, my magic now responding almost like an extension of myself.

“You’re going to have to break all of them open at once, but we also don’t want to take out any of the houses around us. It’s advanced magic, but I have faith in you.”

“We all do,” Matt says. He runs over, grabbing two limbs about the size of baseball bats, and returns. “But maybe these will help us be of some use.” He passes one over to Josh. 

I close my eyes, this time focusing on the world around me. In front of me, I can sense a darkness sucking the life from the area around it. Expanding my senses out, I can feel buildings on one side reaching into the earth, but other than being solid, they don’t seem to be bothering anything. On the other side, I find a combination of buildings and darkness. As I stand there, I can feel tendrils of the darkness stretching out, trying to connect to itself. I don’t know where the knowledge is coming from, but I know that if the darkness forms one solid unit, it will be really bad for me and everyone else in Spells Hollow and out on the main road. 

I reach into the earth, pulling hard to create walls above and below the ground to slow the tendrils down. 

The curse doesn’t like that, sending the fire bursting through the wall in front of us. Patrick moves forward, fighting fire with fire. I send a tremor through the ground toward the building in front of me. It shakes the crypt. The fire hisses, pulling my attention back to the fight in front of me.

“Keep going,” calls Patrick as the building comes to a halt. 

Drawing a deep breath, I send more magic forward and some sideways toward the next spot of darkness. I feel the ground bucking under me, but my feet stay glued to where I am. 

Shouts break my concentration as squawks fill the air. Cracking an eye open, I see a mass of black birds descending on us. I block out the noise as Josh and Matt swing their limbs and do their best to keep the birds back. 

Patrick’s panting and cursing fills the air in front of me. As much as I want to focus on protecting my men, I know the only way to keep everyone safe will be destroying this curse. I close my eyes and focus on pushing the magic farther out toward more of the spots of darkness. My breathing steadies, the chaos around me settling into a dull roar like I’ve just put my head underwater. 

I keep my magic focused on the curse, avoiding anything that doesn’t reek of darkness. Something sliding over my feet draws my attention back to the present. I glance down to see vines snaking over my legs, their bright flowers opening and closing like they want to eat everything in its path. 

I shiver, feeling the vines start to climb up my legs. Focusing once again, I draw deep inside, pulling on my magic to push as much of it at the curse as I can. If I stop now, there won’t be another chance. I send my magic even farther out, almost reaching the far edge of the curse. 

The vine reaches my waist, curling tight like it could squeeze the air from my body, while wings and beaks beat at my shoulders until I can feel blood dripping down my fingertips. 

Shoving all thoughts from my mind, I drag more magic forward. Drawing everything. My arms are heavy, and I’m not sure I can open my eyes if I want to.

“Mor!!!” I hear through the din. I think it’s Patrick. “STOP!!!”

“Just a little more,” I slur, pushing all of me into breaking this curse. I finally find the edge of the darkness and push it farther into the earth until it has no hope of reaching the surface again, burying it under miles upon miles of earth and stone.

A loud pop reaches my ears, like a long-stuck door swinging open, before I give in to the welcoming embrace of oblivion. 

“Morrigan! Morrigan, please come back to us!” 

I hear Patrick, Josh, and Matt shouting at me from a distance, and I claw through an unending darkness toward them, fighting to get back to them. It doesn’t feel like I’m getting any closer, and panic bubbles through me. I reach for my magic, hoping I can bust through whatever stands between us. But… it’s gone. Not even the tiniest grain of it left. 

“Please babe. Open your eyes, come on. Don’t leave us.” 

I gasp, struggling against the dark, to no avail. Their voices drift farther away, like I’m sinking in quicksand. 

“No!” I shout, but it’s hushed the moment it leaves my lips, unable to pierce the gloom around me. 

“Morrigan O’Byrne. Witch of Spirit and Earth. Destroyer of curses.” 

A new voice echoes in the space—one that takes my mind to rolling Irish hills and leprechauns—and suddenly light overcomes the dark, spilling into a space that looks like the O’Byrne study. A tall woman sits at the desk in a large dress that poofs out around her, a high starched cuff framing her face in brilliant teal fabric. The grimoire is open beside her while she writes in what looks like a diary. 

“You’ve done an impressive feat, my dear. Truly a worthy descendant of both the Morrigan and the O’Byrne name.”

“You know who I am?” I ask, my mind spinning from the sudden shift in planes. Ha. I’d read about planes of existence in the grimoire, but I hadn’t understood what they meant until now. Am I dreaming? Am I dead and this is the afterworld? Wherever I am, it’s not the regular world where my men are waiting for me. “Where are we?” 

The woman smiles, gesturing to a straight-backed chair across from her. “In your subconscious mind, of course. You latched onto O’Byrne magic with the last of your strength, and so we’re in the study. I always did love this room.” She looks around for a moment, then focuses back on me. “You are very near death, Morrigan. But fear not, you broke the curse cast upon the family. You have saved us all.”

“What? But what about my guys? What happened to them? I can’t die, not without making sure they’re okay!” 

The woman stands, walking around the desk to lay a soft hand on my shoulder. A warm flow of soothing magic flows through my body at the contact and a gasp escapes my lips as I finally realize who I’m standing before. The witch who burned that night. My ancestor—the original O’Byrne witch. 

“Calm yourself, child. I said you are near death, not that you have died. The O’Byrnes have always had a close relationship with the Spirit element, and though most of us have died out, that power still remains. One day you will learn that you need not fear death, but for today, I will give you a gift in thanks for your sacrifice. 

Hands held out to her sides, she takes a deep breath, then closes her eyes as magic builds around us. From out of nowhere, more women join in, holding hands to create a circle around me. Their magic fills the room until it’s almost stifling, and then the woman in front of me speaks. 

“I, Adair O’Byrne, offer my spirit to my descendant, Morrigan O’Byrne. May she use it well for the rest of her days.” 

As she speaks, I feel a gentle string of magic flow into me, building into a larger ball as each woman in the room does the same, one by one giving me a piece of their magic.

The final lady, Brigit, finishes her offering and they all begin to fade away, but she hangs back for a moment, placing her hand on my cheek. “My daughter. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you growing up. You’ve become such a beautiful young woman, and I couldn’t be prouder of you.” She kisses my forehead, moving back to stand beside Adair. 

“Farewell, Morrigan. Return to the world now and live a long, happy life. Wear your heritage proudly, and never forget that we are here if you are ever in need.” 

They leave, and I’m once more surrounded by darkness. But this time peace fills me instead of panic. I hear my men calling for me again, and I reach out with my magic to find them. My eyes open to see them all holding me, crying, and begging me to wake up. 

I smile, feeling my magic itching to get to work healing them. I release it, and it flows out, dancing in the air around us happily. 

“I love you, guys.”

***

“It was looking bad for a while there. Fire was raining down on us from everywhere, birds and vines pecking and scratching and trying to drag us down into the deep, dark depths of the crypt. I thought that was going to be the end for all of us.” Josh is standing a couple steps up on the main staircase in the O'Byrne house, arms waving wildly as he performs his dramatic story for the captive audience below. 

“My arms were burning, the ravens fanning the flames right at Matt’s and my faces. Fortunately, I still look handsome with singed hair, so I wasn’t worried, but Matt was running around with his hands flapping, trying to protect that mop on top of his head.” He winks, ignoring Matt’s thunderous look. Matt still hasn’t gotten over the fact that he had to shave a lot of his hair off. “Just as my knees began to give out, this loud caterwauling pulled my attention away from the crypt. And there she was! This… This goddess with long brown hair flowing in the wind, standing against the forces of evil in a sexy little black dress that hugged—Oof!” 

Patrick elbows Josh in the ribs, clearing his throat as he nods towards the ghost children who are listening intently to every word. “Keep your weird fantasies to yourself.”

“Fine.” Josh rolls his eyes. “A goddess with long brown hair, sensible jeans, a flannel shirt, and a sensible pair of boots on her feet. Because she’s a badass who knows being dressed appropriately for situations is the best way to go. Anyway, the goddess was standing in the middle of a field full of carnage, this brilliant glow surrounding her. Teal mist danced around her ankles, stretching over the earth as it battled the curse for control of the crypts. For a moment, she had wings bursting out of her shoulders, and then Quoth flew over her head like a bullet, fighting off an entire flock of ravens himself.”

At that, Quoth repeats his part of the fight, flying over Josh’s head as he dives toward the children, banking around them to swoop back onto the banister. A chorus of oohs follows him, and he proudly starts preening his feathers. 

“The tables turned. I slashed the ravens and vines with renewed strength, fighting my way toward the goddess. She glowed brighter, almost too bright to look at. Teal mist was everywhere, pulsing across the town. And then…” He pauses, building the suspense as he makes sure his audience is hanging on his every word. 

“Morrigan, our gorgeous avenging angel, defeated the curse, crushing the core into a pulp until it could no longer harm humans or ghosts alike. In one mighty shake, she burst the crypts open, releasing all the spirits who were trapped inside.” 

The children cheer, and Josh grins, happy with the attention he’s getting. 

“I never knew he was that good at creating fiction,” Matt mutters, still pouting a bit, but his lips are curling into a smile. 

I grin up at him, relaxing back against his chest in the middle of the O'Byrne house. My house. Now that the curse is lifted, none of my men feel the dread from before. We decided to work on fixing this place up to live in, creating a home in the place that brought us all together. 

Eventually, our children will roam these halls, will play in the garden outside, and Josh will tell the story again and again of how we defeated evil. 

Patrick joins us, leaning against the wall next to us. “He’s a natural-born storyteller. Besides, the children don’t need to know how bad it really was. They’ve already seen enough bad in their afterlife.” He smiles at them fondly, and we all watch as Timmy chases Quoth around, phasing through the stairs to almost catch his tail when he flies past unaware. 

The governess, Nan, is leading the twin girls outside. They spend most of their time playing outside now that it’s safe. Now that the curse is broken, there are fewer ghosts around town, most of them now able to move on. Some choose to stick around, at least for a while longer. They know this is a safe place, where they’ll be protected until they’re ready. 

Josh jogs across the floor, dropping to slide the last few feet to us. He props his head on his hand, winking at me. “I think they enjoyed the story! Even if Patrick did ruin the best part of it.” He grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “My goddess, you’re glowing more brilliantly every day.” 

“Yes, her magic has grown significantly.” Patrick nods, gently kicking Josh’s arm out from under his head. “I’m still in awe. I never knew she could become strong enough to allow us to see the ghosts as well.” 

They keep talking, but I’m no longer listening, my eyes growing heavy from the comforting warmth of Matt holding me close. It’s been nearly a week since everything happened, and I’m still drowsy, my body recovering from the sudden influx and overuse of magic. Patrick says I came dangerously close to burning my magic out, but I don’t care about that, not since the three of them are safe. Besides, I know my ancestors have my back, no matter what happens. 

A weight settles against me, and I open my eyes, smiling when I see Timmy settling against me. I pat his head, and he grins, cuddling closer to me. 

“Thank you, Morri.”

And surrounded by the ones I love with all my heart and soul, I fall asleep, content in the knowledge that though there may be hard days ahead, we can get through them as long as we work together and fight for what we believe in. 

The End

Life’s been kinda odd lately.

You see, I’ve always been able to see between here and this other world. It’s all forest-y and nature-y there, and it’s got my spirit friends. I like to crochet them little bodies so they can hang out with me in our world. But it’s also got scruffledorfs, no toilets, and recently I seem to get stuck over there more and more.

The other day, when the moon was all red and pretty, a handsome Fae fellow appeared, saying something all ominous about a curse and doom.

But I can fix this. I just have to find my mates, then go to this place called Spells Hollow… and defeat some ancient evil being while I'm there...

Finding my mates is the easy part, thanks to Mr. Fae Fellow. Getting them to come with me to… where are we going again? For what now? Oh well, I’m sure we will figure it out.

**Whimsical Witch is a standalone novel as part of The Cursed Coven of Spells Hollow shared universe series. This is a why choose novel, meaning the main character has more than one love interest and doesn't choose between them. Please note this book is intended for audiences 18+.

https://mybook.to/ERHm0w

Explore the Witches of Spells Hollow

Warrior Witch by TL Hamilton & Katherine Isaac

Wallflower Witch by Rachelle Bonifay & Roseyk Klayborn

Whimsical Witch by Emmy Dee & Whimsy Nimsy

Wicked Witch by Amber Nicole

Wandering Witch by KZ Merlin

Wishful Witch by Maya Black

Wildfire Witch by Ella Hendricks

Wayward Witch by Zoey Indiana

Wedded Witch by Crystal North